Fifth Iteration (6/15)

[universe_c]

Fifth Iteration

A fic about a village at the beginning of a Universe

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5



6.

-- apocalypseArisen [AA] started trolling adiosToreador [AT]--

AA: hi tavros!
AT: hI! aRE YOU BACK FROM THE MOUNTAIN, aLREADY?
AA: yes! damara finally agreed to come down to the camp for a while
AA: so i can stay at the village as long as i need to this time
AT: i'M REALLY GLAD, tO HEAR THAT
AT: wE ALL MISS YOU
AT: nOT THAT WE DON'T, rESPECT THE WORK YOU DO, aND YOUR CHOICE TO DO IT
AA: i know
AA: it has been hard for me too
AA: i have a present for you and kanaya
AA: i found some nice samples of the mountain-hoofbeast wool you guys wanted to examine
AA: it's very soft!
AT: oH, yEAH
AT: i HAVE BEEN WONDERING, hOW CLOSELY RELATED THEY ARE, tO THE VALLEY HOOFBEASTS
AA: some time when things have settled down a little i can fly you up here so you can meet some of them
AA: they have really serious faces with little beards
AA: it's cute
AT: tHANKS, fOR THINKING OF THAT
AT: i'M REALLY GLAD TO HEAR, yOU'RE COMING HOME
AT: kANAYA TOLD ME, sOLLUX WILL PROBABLY GO INTO LABOR SOON
AA: i know
AA: time player remember? i've been counting the days really carefully
AA: don't tell sollux but i'm coming back tonight
AA: it'll be a surprise!



The Big moon has finally reached its waning quarter, beginning the Dim portion of its long month. Soon it will move in front of the sun, blocking some of the daylight and alleviating the oppressive heat. But soon is not now, and now it is so hot in the afternoons that no one can sleep. Swimming parties become a daily occurrence and what little daytime napping goes on mostly happens on the deep, cool stone porch of First House.

The tides have gone down enough that there has been talk about building up the breakwater. You and Gamzee are headed down to meet Roxy there when you run into Feferi and Sollux on the dune path.

“Sollux, you need to walk places! Your legs will stop working if you don't use them,” Feferi is saying. Sollux has been levitating himself everywhere these days, his thin, sleeveless robe fluttering around his ankles.

“Oh my gog, Fef, why? It's just a few more days and then I'll be done with this. Besides, this sand is fucking hot.”

“You'll be done with this part of it! You're still going to have an egg to take care of, silly.”

“But it won't be inside my fucking body anymore, thank gog. Assuming I survive popping this mess out.”

“You nervous, Solbro?” Gamzee asks.

Sollux rolls his mismatched eyes. “I'm more nervous that I'll be trapped like this forever.”

He clutches Feferi's hand like a lifeline even while he bitches at her. The two of them haven't been seen apart since Sollux's heat. You wonder how they can stand it sometimes.

A few people are already splashing around the beach, the sand scattered with crumpled clothes. No one thought to alchemize bathing suits, so pretty much everyone just swims naked. It's easier than doing extra laundry and no one's really shy about it anymore.

You pick your way along the white stones of the breakwater. A few have shifted noticeably and will have to be repositioned before it can be made taller. Gamzee finds himself a good perch in a sliver of shade and settles in with the egg in his lap. You're fairly sure it could survive being dropped into water, but it would drown pretty quickly if it were left submerged.

“You go on, Tav. I'm gonna up and zone out for a while, like, and just watch your fine figure get all wet and motherfucking athletic.”

Your cheeks feel a little warm, but you like his eyes on you. You take your time stripping out of your clothes, letting him watch you. Then you take a deep Breath and dive.

Your gills flutter happily as you paddle downward. The sun throws dancing ripples on the corals and rocks. Here, on the inward side, the breakwater looks fairly undamaged. An undulating pink form streaks toward you, scattering shoals of colorful fish.

“OMG, fish-crew reunion!” Roxy glubs, her voice distorted by the water. “Tavros! Underwater high five!”

You high five her in underwater slow motion. She grabs you by the hand and takes off swimming at speed, hauling you behind her. It's exhilarating as flying. Eridan races up, pacing you through a few loops and dives before darting off again in a swirl of tiny bubbles. His gravid body is made graceful and sleek by his ease in the water. You laugh until your Breath runs low, then detach yourself and float up toward the surface.

The breakwater is a little far, but not terribly. You dawdle, stroking slowly back, watching your friends' dark heads bob in the waves. More people have gathered while you were cavorting with the fish-crew and the rocks are bright with towels and discarded clothing. The sun is starting to go down, the long shadows of the trees creeping over the dunes. John and Dave appear to be having a cannonball contest, or possibly just trying to splash as many people as possible. John, with his ability to cannonball out of midair, is winning. Dave appears to be doing his in slow motion. He's probably playing for style points.

Roxy pops up beside you as you reach the group.

“Check this out,” she grins, and slaps an enormous fish onto the rocks.

Gamzee grabs it by the tail so it won't flip itself back into the water.

“You up and catch this with your bare hands, my fine fishy sister?”

“You fuckin know it. Fish ninja!” Roxy crows and dives backwards out of sight.

“Hi Gamzee,” you say. “Sorry I was gone so long.”

“Ain't no thing, Tav. I was just getting my chill on and enjoying a fine ass view.”

He gives you that lazy, heated look that used to make you blush so bad. Now, it makes you smile and square your shoulders. You are about to ask if he wants to come in, when Roxy surfaces again, a purple-streaked head surfacing with her.

“See, Eridan! Gamzee really needs you to hold his egg so he can come cool off!” she chirps, winking at Gamzee.

No, no, no, he killed the matriorb, NO, your brain screams. Sollux, Feferi and Terezi, seated nearby, go quiet and watchful. Terezi's tongue flicks at her lips, tasting the air. Eridan looks like he wants to flee, but Roxy's got his wrist in her unbreakable iron grip.

“That sure would be a help, if you don't up and mind,” Gamzee says. He rests a deliberate hand on yours. You realize you are trembling.

Eridan hesitates until it seems like Roxy will bodily haul him out of the water. When he heaves himself up onto the rocks his movements lose their grace, becoming heavy. Gamzee gestures him over, settles the egg on his chest and knots the sling around his wet shoulders.

“Nothing to it,” Gamzee says, patting his back. “Keep her safe for me.” Then, he strips out of his clothes, slides down the rocks and disappears.

You really want to watch Gamzee swim. He's all angles, even in the water, limbs folding and unfolding like something half-mechanical. But you can't make yourself take your eyes off Eridan and your egg.

It sits high on his chest, balanced on the roundness of his stomach. He is very still, clutching his elbows as he wraps his arms around the it without touching it. He tucks his knees up as if to catch it, though it is secure in its sling. Finally, slowly, he lowers his face to it, touches his cheek carefully to its surface. His face fins give a little flutter.

“It's soft,” he says, surprised.

The atmosphere relaxes. Roxy grins and pokes you, waggling her eyebrows. You shove her shoulder and she shoves you back, playfully. You're hovering, but you can't make yourself move away.

Terezi eels over until she's right within arm's reach of Eridan, her cane placed between them deliberately. She displays all her teeth at him. He looks like he's steeling himself for an argument.

“What the grubfisting, nookswabbing fuck is this?” Karkat says.

“Oh, hi Karkles!” Terezi grins, “We're just having a Rainbow Rumpus Skinnydipping Party. Sorry, no party-pooping grouch-faces invited.”

“Oh, cute. Way to try and distract me from entirely more pressing matters at hand, chiefly who let this genocidal, homicidal, matricidal fuckup hold my moirail's egg?”

“That would be me, palebro,” Gamzee says, close behind you. He drapes himself over your back, his chin digging into your shoulder. “My fine fishbro friend there is just holding her so I can get my dip on. You look like you could use a cool-down too, motherfucker.”

Karkat looks for a moment like he might put up a fight, then deflates. The moment after that, a gust of wind sends him sailing off the breakwater, his expression of outrage fully formed before he even hits the water.

John eventually lets Karkat catch him and give him a good ducking, though John has enough gills to breathe through it easily. Eridan is very careful not to let so much as a stray splash touch the egg, though Terezi at one point manages to lick it while Roxy distracts him. Aradia wins the cannonball contest. She blasts up the valley and into the water like a meteor, psionics detonating a wave of spray all over the breakwater, beach and distant houseboat. When she bobs to the surface she chirps “Surprise!” and gives Sollux double pistols and a wink.

A fire is lit on shore and Gamzee grills fresh-caught fish over the flames. Someone is sent up to the kitchens for more food and eventually the whole sunset meal ends up down on the sand, bottles of wine passed around with Jane's delicate honey-cakes.

You cuddle against Gamzee with your moirail propped against your chest. She hugs your egg, and murmurs half-distracted gossip from up the river. You watch John and Sollux both try to lean on Karkat, his face pinking as he shoves them off. Even Eridan hangs out, though he doesn't relax until Jane confirms that Equius refused to leave the workshops.

The night's chores are waiting for you, but there is time first to enjoy this spontaneous welcome home party. Your chores will still be there when you're ready.

*

By now, you should know better than to wander around near First House without looking like you're on some kind of a mission. That's just asking to be conscripted into someone else's project, usually involving some kind of repetitive, finicky task or heavy lifting. You'd woken early in the afternoon, drifted over to find food and before you knew it, Porrim had you agreeing to help with her ongoing ink and dye experiments.

The broad, shaded lawn between the workshops and the strife-practice yard is cooled by an on-shore breeze, smelling of the sea. The forge is running today and the woosh of John's wind powers stoking the fire is steady under intermittent hammering and banter. A long, narrow firepit has been set up with a row of fire-blackened pots starting to steam on it. Porrim directs you to a blanket where Terezi sits surrounded by mounds of random plant life. You settle the egg in your lap and steel yourself for hours of plucking flower petals, grinding roots, and being cross examined.

“Ah, Tavros and our favorite chocolately-grape spheroid!” Terezi sniffs. “Welcome to our most delicious color-making and gossip appreciation hour.”

“Hi Terezi,” you say. “What colors are you working on?”

“A whole fruitylicious rainbow of colors. Colors that become other colors in the boiling pan. Take these little nuts. Their inner membranes may be scrumptious candy red, but they stain things a creamy banana yellow. Appropriate, considering this evening's likely events.”

She hands you a bowl of crushed nuts to separate. After a few seconds of picking through them, you realize you can winnow them, letting handfulls fall through a stream of Breath so the papery membranes blow free of the heavier husks.

“Smart,” Porrim comments. “We will have to make sure you and John are on the grain-harvest crew, when the time comes.”

“Have you noticed, Tavros, that it has only been males falling Earth Human Pregnant so far? What are we to make of this observation? I am hoping Dave will be next, though Karkat's tears of scandalized self-pity would be delicious as well.”

“Ah ha, right down to the gossip, as promised,” Porrim says, stirring various concoctions on the hearth. “So, Terezi, which one of them will bear the fruit of your loins? Or do you need to check the schedule?”

“Come, now, you're embarrassing our help,” Terezi grins, “His lovely chocolate-strawberry blush is most distracting.”

You lean away from her a little, hoping she won't try to lick your face, and scramble for a counter-distraction. “Uh, Terezi, if you don't mind me, uh, asking, what is the deal with the schedule?”

“The deal is this: I prevent Dave from ripping it down because I find it hilarious. Karkat, of course, is the only one who thinks it means anything. John pretends to be unaware of its deeper implications. Why do you ask, Mr. Candy-blushes? Is Karkles' complete incompetence with romance finally starting to upset your matesprit?”

You consider. “Gamzee and Karkat seem, to me, to be mostly fine. But it also seems to me that Karkat doesn't think so. For one thing, there's the part where Karkat is his official moirail for peacekeeping purposes.”

“His jailer,” Terezi grins.

“That is not the way I prefer to think about it, though it has aspects of being true. I think, it hurts Karkat to think of it that way, too. I think they really balance each other like moirails are supposed to. But, also, Gamzee has decided that quadrants are just feelings now and Karkat keeps saying that that's stupid.”

“Interesting,” Terezi says. “Your thoughts, Madame Melon-liqueur?”

Porrim smiles. “I am on an official break from all quadrant-related activities,” she says.

“Yes, what does one do next when one has already cycled all the available candidates through their quadrants' well-greased revolving doors?”

“Start over?” you say. Maybe if you blush hard enough, you'll pass out and can avoid the rest of this conversation.

Terezi and Porrim just laugh, though, and Porrim says there may be hope for you yet. You finish with the bowl of nuts, scraping the escaped bits up off the blanket. Porrim passes you a basket of wilting flowers and directs you to separate the petals, stamens and stems into three separate trays.

“Human non-quadrant relationships,” Terezi pronounces. “A confusing and increasingly relevant topic. Perhaps you'd care to hold forth on this, since quadrants are currently off the table?”

“You'd know more about it that I would,” Porrim counters, “Since you live with two of them. But I must admit to watching the situation with Equius, Eridan, Roxy and Jane with some degree of professional curiosity.”

“A veritable textbook human non-quadrant relationship wedged into an established kismesissitude to aid them in rearing offspring. A fascinating if somewhat precarious arrangement. Tavros, I hear you were there when it happened?”

“I, uh, was present for some of the events that probably constitute it happening. Uh, not that I was really involved. I just happened to be there.”

“But it's true that Jane claims to have no ashen feelings for them?”

“I guess. She said she, uh, didn't understand how breaking up fights is romantic. Actually, I, uh, think the whole idea of caliginous hate is kind of upsetting to her.”

Terezi licks thoughtfully at the flower in her hand. “A familiar attitude.”

Porrim winks at you. “Familiar how?” she asks.

Terezi makes a face. “Jane and John are, in some ways, the most similar ancestor-descendant pair. John claims it is because of their apparently mutual human father. Human adult-lusii seem to have a pervasive effect on the mentalities of the young they raise. Rest assured I will be keeping a close eye on this one, to observe the process first hand.”

She lays a hand on your egg, her unfocused teal eyes meeting yours uncannily behind her red glasses.

“I think that we, might need the help. And you're Karkat's, uh, whatever. So. That's something like family, at least as far as I, uh, understand that term?” you tell her. There is no escape from her anyway, so best to be graceful about it.

Porrim makes a noise of frustration. “Terezi, must you always dodge a question until I point out your doing so?” she says. “Fine, let me just ask you plainly and unambiguously. Karkat – red or black?”

“Objection! Ambiguous situations call for ambiguous answers. Karkat doesn't see why I can't flip red or black for him whenever he wants me to. If it were just me and him, it might be possible. But it would make Dave unhappy, though he denies this. Add the vagaries of John, the recent interest of Sollux, and the various romantic fixations and neurosis of those involved, and you'll find the situation just as unclear to the participants as the voyeurs.”

“I don't see how Karkat can be as hung up on Troll Serendipity as everyone seems to think,” you say, “Since he has three different people sort of in his black quadrant and red quadrant at the same time.”

“He seems to think we'll sort ourselves naturally into red, black and ash if he waits long enough. But John's involvement effectively nixes that plan. John acts so pale for him sometimes it turns him all delicious red with frustration. And then there are the pranks, which, for any sane and rational troll, would be borderline black solicitations. And then he'll get between Karkat and I when we're just starting to get good and angry, or jump between Karkat and Dave when they start bickering.”

“Maybe what John and Karkat need is an auspistice?” Porrim suggests.

“Are you volunteering? No? I have considered this, of course. Kanaya would be the obvious candidate, but Rose refused to let her intervene. I even, at one point, started feeling out Jade for the job. But it seems that our ex-humans have separately or together decided to sidestep or outright refuse any quadrant-style relationships. Unless you mean for John to be the auspistice, which I think would lead to a situation quite like Jane's raspberry-blueberry-strawberry dilemma.”

“Do you think it's weird that we're only just figuring all this stuff out now?” you ask. “We've all been living together for a long time. You, I guess, have been living with humans the longest.”

“Well, this whole mammalian reproduction episode has forced a number of issues.” Terezi sighs, “It's actually fairly predictable timing, though. We've been working too hard since we left the game to spend much energy on these kind of romcom shenanigans. The necessities of survival have won out over teen drama, except for a few notable incidents last winter.”

Most of those involved Vriska. You are glad yet again that she and Meenah snuck off to play pirates. They haven't been back for over a month.

Porrim sits very straight, regal in her dye-blotched apron and black dress, dipping a skein of lumpy yarn into a steaming pan. “Circumstances in the game were perfect for manufacturing drama,” she says, “The shock of watching the world destroyed, the constant adrenaline of combat, the ability to alchemize any material thing we might want. And then, of course, there were the uncountable sweeps of our afterlives, without any physical danger, hunger or thirst. Sometimes I wonder how we retained as much of our sanity as we did. Perhaps the game selected for the abandoned and rabidly self-involved because they were the only sort of people who could endure it.”

Terezi nods. “It's been interesting to observe how we've all adapted to working hard, don't you think? Did you know that none of the humans were considered old enough to work when they entered their session?”

“Neither were we, really,” you point out.

“Right now we are on a small plateau before harvest and winter preparations begin, before our resources start to run low. Soon enough we will have to get serious about making more metal and cloth, and things will probably settle down again,” Porrim says.

“Not to mention all the work our adorable little wigglers will be!” Terezi cackles. “I am going to get Dave so pregnant. John and I will high five constantly about our fatherly virility. But hush, I think I smell the approach of another grapeberry mess.”

Cronus and Kankri's voices float across the yard from the path toward First House.

“Come on, you're always busy.”

“I have this whole community to facilitate! It does take a significant amount of my time, and contributes directly to your own well-being as well as the greater good.”

“Oh, my gog. Fine. So, can I at least come hang out with you while you do your king of the tribe thing? I'll just lay myself out at your feet and not say anythin, I promise. I'll be like your decorative one-man harem. Maybe I can fan you or feed you fruit or somethin. Please?”

“As I just indicated, it will be a Seers' meeting. And so will probably prove very long, very erudite, and hopefully very productive. But only if you are not interrupting us because you've gone a triggering number of minutes without someone paying attention to you. I'm happy to validate your personhood further later tonight. We've been making some real progress on various issues which I hope you find as gratifying as I do. However, please find something else to do until then.”

“Baby, you know nothin turns my crank like listenin to you talk for hours about meaninless, pretentious bullshit. I can sit and listen just fine. Maybe provide some stimulatin shoulder rubs, get those Seer juices circulatin.”

Terezi and Porrim stand in unison and approach the epicenter of the bickering. There is a clearly audible pock as Terezi drubs Cronus in the shin with her cane.

“Oh! Mr. Violet Perfume! Didn't see you there!” she says.

“Hello, Terezi. It's time for the Seers' Open Dialog Committee meeting and we have some issues on our agenda this week that your Mindful insight could prove most constructive in deconstructing.”

“Kanny!” Porrim protests, “Are you about to take my help away? I'm right in the middle of something here.”

“I must request for the umpteenth time that you not address me by that horrid belittling nickname.”

“If you are going to steal away all my labor, this deeply important project will never be completed. The artistic potential of our community will suffer in untold ways.”

Now would be the time to abscond, but you're distracted by how strange this is. Terezi was never the type to jump in and derail conflict before it could escalate. She preferred to lick her chops and twist the knife, or simply observe until things went too far and justice needed to be meted out. Before you can extract yourself from the tangle of plant bits and cognitive dissonance, Porrim is already dragging Cronus over. He's dressed in a thin baggy-sleeved robe, tied with a sash, exposing a stripe of his bare chest and pregnant belly.

“Porrim, you don't even like me,” he complains as she dumps him on the blanket and places a mortar and pestle in his hands.

“Just because I will not pail you does not mean I do not like you. However, you are correct.”

“Was that Human Sarcasm? I can never tell with you.”

“And here you're the self-proclaimed expert on humans.”

“Will you please stop bringin that up? So embarrassin. Oh, hey little Nitram.”

“Uh, hi,” you say, trying not to be too obvious about angling your egg away from him. You've had some run-ins with him, one of which almost resulted in Karkat kicking his ass.

He huffs a little, arranging himself into what he must think is a casual sprawl. Mostly he just looks uncomfortable and a little out of place.

“How many more days of this, again?” he asks.

“Ten or so,” Porrim tells him. “At least, if our projection based on Gamzee's cycle is accurate. We'll be more sure if Sollux does go into labor today.”

“Hey, Porrim. I've been wantin to ask you.” He touches his fingers to his hair, then lets his hand drop. Whatever he's been using for pomade leaves his hair wet-looking. “Since Meenah ain't here to take me in hand, I want you there when it's time for me to expel my wiggler-baby egg. I'd rather it was you than one of these smart-alek kids.”

The suspicion in Porrim's face softens. “Only if you're on your best behavior.”

“Jeez. You're supposed to be everyone's hot fling not their lusus.”

“And there, you just changed my mind. Congratulations, that was impressively quick work.”

“You're just jerkin me around, now. Porrim, you know that kind of rejection is hard for me. Does no one understand that my feelins are fuckin delicate over here? You and Kankri are so much alike some times, it's no wonder that you can't stop antagonizin each other.”

“Wow,” you say, standing as quickly as you can manage. “Look at the moonrise. I almost forgot that I have to go help, uh, Jade! Thanks for teaching me about dye stuff, Porrim, bye!”

You abscond towards glorious freedom.