Chapter Text
You are a young troll, and you wish more than anything else in this fucked up universe that Spidermom would stop looking at you with those huge hungry eyes.
You know her. You know that she won’t be pacified, not ever, and you’ll have to give up sooner or later, but that won’t stop you from feeling particularly rebellious right now.
You sit down on the plank, wincing a little as the coldness of the material wraps itself around you and seeps into your bones. Moreover, it’s just plain unsettling to stare at her, at her huge mass of monstrosity and everything that she reminds you of.
Maybe the reason you are assigned to her is because of your notorious bad luck. It certainly isn’t a desirable thing, having a custodian who always acts as if you would be a nice side dish. You would say that she’s awesome, that she’s the best thing that has ever happened and she’s helping you gain all the levels, allllll of them, but you also know that you would be lying.
(For as long as you can remember, you’ve been stealing side glances at other trolls – even the trolls that are destined to die at your hands – and marveling, marveling at how they just get off so easy. Messing up? A small STRIFE episode, that’s all. Some stupid trolls even get to ride them, to play with them, to coo and to call and to summon… fuck, you’re feeling sorry for yourself again. Shame on you.)
You lie a lot, but if it can keep you going, you will do it. You want to live – why is it me, why do I have to die, why can’t I get the same thing as everyone else – even if your life hurts. You fight even when you can’t take it anymore, even when your powers of manipulation run dry and your head is hurting like it’s splitting apart and you are just tired and scared and helpless and you don’t want to do it anymore but no just let me live just let me live JUST LET ME LIVE. Just… give me a chance.
She always crunches – sits? – there comfortably and watches you squirm, watches you as you fumble and try to keep yourself sane. You can’t make a mistake – one tiny slip in concentration and the ones you have labeled as “victims of the day” would be on you, all violence and rage, tearing you to threads before you would even get a chance to scream into the dark Alternian skies.
Seized by a fit of rage, you get up abruptly and advance menacingly on her, your knuckles white. She’s the source of all your problems. All your misery, all the days you spent drawing up strategies and inventing negotiation methods with those fickle marine trolls, all the lies you’ve had to tell and all the unpleasant memories you’ve had to experience when you first learned to get inside another troll’s head. She’s responsible for every single damned thing and you want to hurt her, to stick fire into her flesh and laugh as she burns, as she gradually fades from existence and as you gain your freedom, at long last –
She’s still looking at you like that. Same eyes. Same hunger. Same smug expression. Same lusus. Same Spidermom.
You drop to your knees and start to cry noisily; you promise her that you’ll be back later tonight because you know that despite everything, she’s the only one you’ve ever had. She’s your custodian – if you get rid of her, what would you have aside from a castle hive full of nothing and a neighbor who regularly throws robot parts across the chasm?
Oh yeah. You will have death.
You run up the stairs. You’re almost happy that they never seem to end, because you’re leaving light cerulean drops all over the place and you would have to get your composure right by the time you reach the top. No sane troll is going to fall for a girl who’s crying her eyes out.
(They would, instead, chant “CULL HER” in unison.
Giddy and greedy, all of them out for blood.)
In your agitated state, you fall, injuring your legs because you’re just that clumsy.
You are such a disgrace.