Chapter Text
Your name is Vriska Serket, you are not quite five sweeps old, and you have two kids’ corpses in your sylladex and you’re headed back home to feed them to your mom. Eridan got one of them with his dumb fancy rifle and you took out the other with your super cool FLARPing sword, and usually you only get one kill every week or so, which means this is really good! You wonder if maybe, just maybe, your mom will be proud.
You come around the hill and see your hive outlined tall and dark against the sky. That’s when you spot the troll sitting against a tree nearby.
That’s weird, because strangers never come around here, and this definitely isn’t someone you recognize. She’s about your age, with cute little horns that match the meow beast lusus curled up next to her, and her clothes are ragged and dirt-smudged—an oversized olive green jacket pulled over a t-shirt and shorts. Is she feral or something?
“Hey,” you say. “What are you doing here?”
If you were able to prevent yourself from sticking your nose into other people’s business, your name wouldn’t be Vriska Serket.
The troll jumps to her feet at the sound of your voice. “Hello!” She bounds forward to meet you, and your jaw drops as she proceeds to get so far up in your personal space that her hair brushes your collarbone. She even prods your shoulder curiously, examining you like she’s never seen another person before in her life. Everything from her wide round eyes to her sneaker-clad toes quivers with energy.
She still hasn’t answered your question, so you try again. “Are you lost?”
The girl hesitates. “Purrhaps,” she admits. “My furiend said I should meet him here, but I don’t see him anywhere.”
Okay, she’s definitely lost. The only reason anyone would send their hatefriend to a location within a one-mile radius of your hive is if they wanted to get them killed. People trade horror stories about you and your lusus on the forums. My friend’s moirail’s auspistice’s matesprit did a FLARP campaign against the cerulean who lives over there and she never heard from him again! It’s getting a lot harder to find food these nights, and uh, mom is not happy about it…
But you don’t want to think about that.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re in the wrong place,” you say.
“These are definitely the coordinates he gave me, though,” she says. Kinda sucks for her, since it means her friend is definitely out to get her—the only person who lives close by is Equius Zahhak, and there’s no way that stuck-up snob invited anyone lower than teal to his hive. “I’m Nepeta, by the way! Nepeta Leijon.”
She’s looking up at you with a big, open smile like Stranger Danger is simply not a possibility in her mind. Wow, alright. Every bone in your body is telling you that this is a great opportunity to score a third dead kid for mom’s dinner and make her really impressed. (Though Leijon’s front canines do look oddly sharp…)
But. Well. There’s something about her that just… you don’t know. You kinda don’t want to stop talking to her. It’s a weird feeling, but not a bad one, exactly.
You think this would be a great moment to say something really witty, except your thinksponge has temporarily stopped working and instead your mouth just sort of flops open like a fish. Great job, brain!
Her rather large meowbeast lusus uncurls and stretches, then sniffs in your direction. Then the lusus hisses, showing all her teeth, and jumps in between you and her wriggler.
“Pounce, stop! Down!” says Nepeta, patting at her lusus, who ignores her and growls, low and threatening. You glare at Pounce, and when you don’t step away—oookay that snap of the jaws nearly took a chunk out of your leg.
“Ooh, I hope she didn’t get mew, did she? I’m pawfully sorry about that, I don’t know what’s got her fur riled up like this. She’s so funny sometimes. It’s like she furgets I have these!” And her strife deck equips her with claw extenders nearly a foot and a half long. She swipes them through the air with a shing sound.
Your eyes track the glint of the blades. They moved fast, faster than anything you’ve seen on a troll in melee combat. She could fillet you with them before you could even reach for your specibus. “Hhhnng,” you say, and then remember how to do words. “I’m. I’m Vriska.”
She nods thoughtfully. “That’s a nice name. I’ll call you Vriskers.”
“What? No, that’s lame!”
“It’s not lame. It’s a cat pun.”
“So? That makes it lamer.”
Nepeta frowns, because that is the height of compelling rhetoric when you are five sweeps old.
There’s a twinge in the pit of your stomach. You liked it better when she was smiling. You shuffle your feet and say, “Your claw things are kind of cool, I guess. But I think your hatefriend wants me to kill you.”
She stares at you blankly for a long moment. Then she says, “…what?”
“Weeeell, my lusus—”
You’re interrupted by frantic footsteps coming up the hill behind you. There’s the sound of someone huffing for breath, and then a bellowing voice: “SERKET—hff—DON’T YOU—hff—DARE—”
Nepeta’s eyes light up. “Equihiss!” she says, and leaps past you.
You turn around just in time to see Zahhak get tacklepounced to the ground. The smaller troll connects with his upper torso, his arms pinwheel wildly, and then his shoes slip on the dewy grass and he goes over backward. “The mighty huntress accosts her sneaky, elusive prey!” Nepeta says happily, rubbing her face against his horns.
“Wait, you guys actually know each other?” you say, as Pounce prowls up to the two of them and curls up near Equius’ head, purring.
Equius tries to say something, but all that comes out is a feeble wheeze. Nepeta finally notices that he can’t breathe and eases off his windpipe. He coughs out, “This is the first time we’ve met in person. Now, Nepeta, you must cease this. It is unseemly.”
“Nooo, don’t wanna!”
“You must.”
“But I don’t wanna.”
“But you must.”
“I don’t want to,” she insists, and flops across his chest. He doesn’t seem to mind, just pats her back gently. Or rather, he pats the air above her. You guess he’s worried about his superstrength.
You feel like your confused mind is splitting into eight hundred even more confused pieces. “Okay, okay, back up. You really invited her to your hive?” And since they’re clearly very familiar with each other, why haven’t you heard about her earlier? You and Equius aren’t exactly joined at the hip, but you have his trollian handle and you chat all the time. Granted, most of the conversations involve him calling you improper and you calling him a loser, but it was only hatefriendly ribbing. Or at least you thought it was hatefriendly. You feel kind of upset. Or at least you would if you were a sucker who felt stupid things like that, you remind yourself.
“I am so sorry,” Equius says, but not to you. “I meant to be here to meet you, but I lost track of the time. I didn’t intend for you to run into Serket.”
“I’m right here, you know,” you say.
“Yes, I’m aware. And if you try to turn my friend into sustenance for your lusus, then I will…” He hesitates, apparently remembering that you FLARP on a nightly basis and he can’t even shoot an arrow. “I will be very stern indeed,” he says, fixing you with what he probably thinks is an intimidating glare.
You snort. “Yeah, no, I’d be more worried about Leijon here. Your claw extenders are kind of cool, by the way. Not as cool as my specibus, but pretty neat. Have you ever tried FLARPing?”
“Of course she hasn’t,” snaps Equius, at the same time that Nepeta says, “Ooh, I’d love to!”
They frown at each other. Equius says “Those games are fatal,” as if that’s some kind of deterring factor.
“I can handle it.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“It's not.”
“Yes it is.”
She sticks her tongue out at him. “You’re no fun.”
“I strictly forbid you from it,” he says, and she rolls her eyes to show just how much she thinks of that statement. He stands up slowly and the smaller troll slides off him with a humph. “Dawn is coming soon, we should get inside.”
As if on cue, there’s a stirring in the back of your mind. A click-clack-growl, and then mom’s voice echoes through your pancase. Why aren’t you at hive yet, wriggler? I’m hungry.
You flip your hair over your shoulder, trying to indicate that you could care less about Equius and his visitor, no matter how curious you actually are. “Siiigh. I’ve got better things to do then hang with you two losers. See ya later, I guess.”
“Yes we will!” Nepeta says.
“No, we most certainly will not,” says Equius.
“But I want to talk to Vriskers,” she says, and you’re caught between wincing because of that dumb nickname and grinning because—well—she wants to talk to you.
Equius grimaces. “But—listen—argh. We can talk about this inside.” The sunrays are already creeping over the trees and it’s getting uncomfortably hot, which means it's probably a lot worse for him and his icky sweaty problem. He nods formally to you. “Good day.” Then he carefully takes hold of Nepeta’s sleeve and begins tugging her away.
Nepeta stumbles after him and waves over her shoulder. “My chat handle is arsenicCatnip!” she calls, and then they disappear into the trees.
*
-- arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling arsenicCatnip [AC] --
AG: Hey.
AC: :33 < *nepeta gasps in happy surprise*
AC: :33 < *she wonders if this is the nice girl she met with the funny pupils in her eye*
AG: Yep, that’s me! ::::)
AC: :33 < *the kitty cat knows her furriend thinks vriskers is dangerous but she doesnt care*
AC: :33 < *she wants to hang out anyway*
AC: :33 < but probably not flarp right now, usually i dont pay attention to what equihiss tells me to do but i think if i try flarping he might have a bloodpusher attack or something :(
AG: Hoooooooold up one second. Are you into roleplaying?
Two hours later, Nepeta has managed to cajole you into making a spidersona.