Chapter Text
Your name is Porrim Maryam, and you have the great honor of spending every waking moment of your life attending to the needs of the Mother Grub deep within the brooding caverns.
The drones have just dropped off a supply of the Mother Grub's favorite food. She's been depressed lately; hopefully this will help perk her up.
You catch a glimpse of the surface while you're there picking it up; the moons are both full and bright and a ribbon of stars twinkle just out of reach. It's wonderful seeing the sky after so long in the dark. But then one of the drones gives you that look and his claws tighten on his culling fork. You quickly take one of the gifts they brought and make sure to keep your head low and hurry back to work after that.
It's impossible to carry it all on your own. You make a trip through the winding labyrinth of caverns and recruit some of the other girls to come help you along the way. They help - grudgingly, but at least they help.
Thankfully this is the last bit of it. Your shoulders are starting to ache and your feet already feel as though they're going to blister. But despite a few sore toes and a couple stiff joints you're actually in rather high spirits. Some of the girls catch you singing and try to shush you, but you'll have none of it.
What do you care about all the silly rules about banned music and literature? So you're singing about finding somebody to love, so? The Grand High Blood made those silly rules and he is neither Mother Grub nor Her Imperious Condescension. Just because he has his brightly colored clown bloomers in a knot over certain forms of music and poetry doesn't mean he's going to magically know you were 'sinning' and seek you out in order to smite you for it. Besides, there are few pleasures for you down here, so when you feel this happy you can't help it when it just bubbles up. Your only release is a silly tune that spills from your lips.
Admittedly, you also adore the acoustics of the caverns. They make your humble, quiet voice sound unfamiliar and beautiful to your ears.
A tiny noise catches your attention, and you slow your pace to listen. You can make out the faint scratching sound of claws scrabbling for purchase on stone as well as the scatter of loose gravel as something moves closer in the darkness.
You come to a complete stop and your song drops to a quieter level, but you don't stop singing. If you act frightened at all, the Lusii that dwell down here will think you are easy prey. You're not sure what could be following you, but you have to be careful.
“Oh, please do not be a crab, those horrible cantankerous grub-less idiots,” You say aloud in a sing-song tone, hopefully masking your fears. That particular species of Lusus does not take kindly to anyone. They are ornery to the core and you have yet to see one of those monsters take on a wriggler.
You drop the parcel you're carrying and turn suddenly, letting loose a ferocious snarl.
If nothing else you have gloriously frightening fangs. Usually it only takes a flash of teeth and claws and nobody dares to bother you again; there is always a bit of irrational fear when meeting a rainbow drinker, after all.
A startled little grub stares back at you with impossibly wide yellow eyes, frozen in place with his mouth hanging slack. He comes to his senses and arches on the tips of his claws before scrambling backwards away from the glow of your cast light.
Well - you've certainly traumatized the little thing into not liking adults. You're going to cause him to become a feral troll if the little one doesn't trust adults at all - that is if the little grub even makes it out of the caverns alive.
A pang of guilt and worry suddenly clutches your chest and for some reason this startles you.
“I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you,” you call to him, hunching down and hugging your knees while making little cooing noises to try to coax the little one back out.
What are you doing?
You really shouldn't talk to it, you should just turn and leave. As one of the attendants to the Mother Grub you are not to interfere with the wrigglers as they make their way through the caverns.
If they die, they die. That is just how things are.
You're about to give up trying to call him back out. It's a good thing, too. It was silly of you to even talk to the little thing, let alone try to call it to you.
A movement in the shadows catches your attention once more, and you see the faint shine of a tiny eye in the dark.
The little grub is hiding behind a small rock, peeking at you from under a wild mess of fluff that nearly obscures the nubby little tips of his horns. He's absolutely tiny. You've never seen such a small grub. It's certainly not a good sign for his future.
You feel something twisting in your chest again, your blood-pusher hammering away and leaving you completely confused.
“You scared me, little one. I thought you were going to eat me,” you say with a stupid grin on your face. You reach out your hand and click your fingers at him, calling him closer.
He toddles out into the light of your glow, drawing near to you. Your blood-pusher just about melts when he stretches out those small front claws and playfully tilts his head to stick out his tiny tongue at you. He's turning on charm that should not be legal on any planet.
You sigh with mock exasperation. “Now - you need to hurry along. You're almost out, little one. There will be a lusus waiting for you near the opening. Don't keep them waiting too long.”
The tiny grub blinks up at you, not making any motion to leave.
You wave your hand in his direction, making little 'shooing' noises. “Hurry now, go find your Lusus.”
He finally lowers his eyes, backing away slowly.
That defeated expression on his face shouldn't be as heart-wrenching as it is. Perhaps you are getting ill? You certainly feel a strange uneasy mixture of hot and cold racing through your blood as you watch him go.
You finally pull yourself up onto to your feet and gather up the package of food you dropped. A terribly suffocating feeling of loneliness creeps over you as you try to gather yourself together and get back to work.
Get up and carry on like always.
But you can't get him out of your mind and it leaves you feeling lost and alone.
The only thing you can think to do is to try and recall some of the happiness you were feeling earlier. Sing again - it always makes you feel so much better when you sing.
Dust yourself off, pick back up the song, and just carry on like always. Perhaps this feeling will pass in a few moments and you can be happy again.
Maybe...
So you sing, but the tune is tainted with the feelings you were trying to push back. You can hear the edge of tears echoing off the cavern's walls back to you. Why? Why are you feeling like this now of all times? Perhaps it's just your wanderlust trying to kick in again. The monotony is killing you slowly down here.
You've always wished for something more. Something important in your life. No, something more important than life. You need someone special to love more than anything in this dreary world.
No. You are important to the Mother Grub. She depends on you. She is all you need.
But he was so tiny.
It's not as though you haven't seen grubs that would never make it.
He was so helpless.
You have walked through the blood of slain grubs. Your shoes are dyed rainbow hues that have now muddied into an indistinguishable brown. The death of the weak and the helpless is nothing new, especially in this world.
You shouldn't feel anything for him.
That adorable charming little grub that wiggled into your thoughts and fits so perfectly is –
he is -
He is still following you.
You turn as soon as you hear that same little scuffle of claws on stone. You catch him just in time to see him arch again, top fluff fuzzing up in every direction, eyes wide again as tries to scramble back the direction he came.
“Do not think for one second that I do not see you following me, wriggler. What in the name of the Mother is wrong with you? Do not follow me, I am taking you right back to the place you fought so hard to get away from.”
He just hunkers down and stares at you.
“Go on now. You're so close to getting out. Go on.” You point back up the cavern, hoping he at least takes the visual cue to leave.
Instead of listening to you, he slowly ambles over, then scrambles clumsily up into the little crater near you.
You finally notice he's not moving very fast, and he's favoring one of his legs.
“Oh.” You breathe the word. “Oh I see.”
You set down the parcel of food again and crouch down next to the little crater that he's nestling himself into. Perhaps he's given up, and just wants someplace where he feels safe to wait for the end.
"Let me see, little one.” You reach for his leg and he flops over and lets you look over his injury.
He's a little rust blood; you can tell by the ruddy hue of his thorax. He might be low on the hemospectrum, but he certainly is a fighter. Such a tiny little grub fought his way through all the trials and is now willing to walk through them a second time following you. Luckily, it's not really a bad injury at all, just a cut that's already trying to heal over. Still, it probably hurts pretty badly. He certainly is a determined little scrapper.
“This is not so bad, why are you not going on? Why are you following me?” You're puzzled over his situation. You thought for sure he was badly wounded and giving up, but this wasn't the case at all.
Your thoughts are interrupted when he starts to purr at you. Not surprising, really. You expected him to start his little engines the moment you began running your claws through that mess of tangled hair on his head. But then you notice that his purring sounds more like humming, familiar humming. He's trying so hard to hum the song you were singing.
“So, you liked my song?” You're bewildered that anyone could possibly like hearing you sing. “That couldn't possibly be the reason you followed me.”
He answers by doing that adorable roll, head-tilt, tongue-biting thing again, but this time with a silly little grin plastered on his face. He couldn't have said “Yes, it is,” any plainer.
“You perfect little idiot,” you scold him but he just wiggles all over, “and that is not playing fair, stop it. That is illegal levels of adorable.”
His hair ruffles and he makes a lazy attempt at arching his back and growling at you.
“O-o-oh, mean! Mean little grub,” You poke his side, careful of his cut leg, and he flops over and makes a few happy little chirps. “Excuse me, Mr. Adorabloodthirsty!” You continue to tease him.
He doesn't care; he's making the flirty half-lidded eyes and waving a little claw at you. You gather him up, holding him to your chest as you nestle into a craggy outcropping of the cave. “Very well, I'll sit with you for a while, but that is all. They shouldn't come looking for me until I've been missing for quite some time.”
It is the strangest, loveliest feeling to hold such a warm little bundle of life so close. To listen to the content little chirrs he makes when you begin singing to him. If you thought you were happy before, oh, you were so wrong. You feel as though you have not known true happiness until this very moment. Until you dropped all sane thought at the door and reached out and touched this bright little sun.
That's what it is.
That is exactly what he feels like. He gives you the same feeling you had when you felt the sun on your face so long ago. It was warmth that spread clear through to your core when you got to see the day sky and feel the warm touch of light.
Holding this little grub is that same warmth and the same happiness you got from seeing the surface, except this feeling right now while holding him close is nearly ten-thousand times more powerful.
It doesn't take long before he's asleep, snuggled into the crook of your arm as you gently scratch your claw behind his ear. You'll have to give him up soon and that fact makes you terribly sad. You have to let him go so he can find his lusus, and live the life he was destined for.
What kind of troll will he grow to become? He has so muchpotential; he's certainly a brave little fighter. You can't help the excitement stirring up inside as you ponder all the possibilities resting in your arms. Oh, you wish you could teach him everything you know and be there to see him through his life.
Is this what it feels like for a lusus? Do they feel this overwhelming happiness to think of all the endless possibilities this small life in their arms holds for the future?
He can change the world if he chooses to.
You brush your hand over his leg. It's started bleeding a little again; he must have opened the cut while he was wiggling around like that. Thankfully, it isn't bleeding much, but it's enough to worry you. It may not be a crippling wound, but it could still get infected. You want to do something to help him, but what could you possibly do?
The best think you can think of to do is to wrap it and stop the bleeding. Hopefully that will keep him from opening it again. It's not the best option, but it's all you can do with your limited resources.
You reach to the hem of your dress, using your claws to shred off a strip of material, then you will yourself to glow a bit brighter so you can see clearly.
Red.
You brush your hand over the cut lightly, and he squirms uncomfortably in his sleep from the touch. You hold the tip of your finger closer. You can barely believe the color. Your fingertips are stained the brightest red you have ever seen. This is certainly not the natural color of a rust blood at all. It's far too bright, but it is the most beautiful color you have ever seen.
A thought crosses your mind and suddenly you feel a cold knot twisting your insides.
You had been so young when they brought you to the caverns to be an attendant. They spent so many perigees training you and the other new girls. During this time they drilled numerous rules involving the rules and regulations of becoming an attendant into you. Some of those rules involved the grubs.
You were to ignore the grubs. Live or die, they were not any concern to you.
Except in one case.
If you ever found a mutant grub, you were to cull it immediately.
They had called it a 'mercy culling', because mutant grubs couldn't possibly live above ground. Even if they were to make it through the cavern trials to the surface, a lusus would never accept them. They would die a slow and painful death on the surface.
Your little grub would never be accepted by anyone. He would die alone and frightened. Eaten by scavengers or culled by a drone or another attendant.
He was doomed to death before he even hatched.
Your strong, adorable little grub; the only living being that loves to hear you sing.
Your little ball of sunlight that chased away the darkness - will die.
Your beautiful little grub.
He's your little grub.
You finally found someone to love and the entire world is telling you he needs to die.
No.
Your little grub will live, or you will both die together.
You run with him,and you never stop running.