Work Text:
Your name is NEPETA LEIJON. You are five and half sweeps old, and you have never heard of a videogame called Sgrub or anything like that. You’ve of course heard of FLARP, but it isn’t really a videogame, and regardless you’re not allowed to play it no matter how many of your friends are into it. Your moirail always says no, and even though cats don’t often take orders, you’re willing to listen to him every now and then.
You’re leaning against Pounce De Leon and doodling shippy little pictures with your tablet when you see a little box in your Trollian window that says your moirail is online. You let out a content little purr and snuggle closer into your lusus’s fur so you can be completely comfortable whilst trolling your favorite fuddy-duddy.
AC: :33 < *unbeknownst to ct a furocious pouncebeast crouches in a patch of long grass, growling quietly*
CT: D--> Hello Nepeta
CT: D--> Is what I would say
CT: D--> If your presence was not unbeknownst to me
AC: :33 < *the pouncebeast ignores the fact that ct is talking to himself and inches closer to her prey, keeping low to the ground*
CT: D--> I’m trying to figure out
CT: D--> E%actly how to act as though I don’t know you’re coming
CT: D--> I may be in need of a towel if this goes on much longer
AC: :33 < h33h33!
AC: :333 < is what the pouncebeast would say if she wasn’t trying to be quiet
AC: :33 < *the pouncebeast finally decides to put ct out of his misery*
AC: :33 < *pounces*
CT: D--> Oh noooo
AC: :33 < h33h33h33!!!! i got you!!!!
CT: D--> Yes
CT: D--> Congratulations
AC: :33 < *the kitty purrs and flips on her back to ask fur a belly-rub*
CT: D--> Nepeta
CT: D--> A belly-rub from me could leave you e%tremely bruised
AC: :33 < awwww :((
AC: :33 < you know sometimes you’re a little purrssimistic
You look at that last pun of yours with a little bit of disappointment. It really isn’t your best. You try saying it out loud, and even Pounce De Leon seems to give you a strange, incredulous look. For a moment you feel the strange, nagging sensation of déjà vu tugging at your coat, but you ignore it and write:
AC: :33 < bluh did i really just say ‘purrssimistic’? that doesn’t really roll of the tongue
And suddenly you feel…off-kilter, like that was the wrong thing to say. You feel like you should have said something else entirely, and for a moment you’re a little embarrassed at the awkward recantation of the pun. You wonder if you should have just run with it and pretended it wasn’t that bad. You feel especially anxious when your moirail takes what seems like a very long time to reply. Finally he does, but what he says doesn’t sound right to you either.
CT: D--> Um
CT: D--> As 100dicrous as that last pun was
CT: D--> I don’t remember you berating yourself about it
The pit of your stomach suddenly feels very cold, and you’re suddenly gripped by the urge to look at the peaceful face of your sleeping lusus, to make sure that she is still alive and breathing. You put one gloved hand in her fur and, while you can feel warmth permeating from her moving chest, you don’t feel comforted in the least.
AC: :33 < what do you mean?? :OO
CT: D--> Actually, I’m not sure
CT: D--> It’s just
CT: D--> For a second I was sure I knew what you were going to say next
CT: D--> But then you said something abso100tely different
AC: :33 < DD: that’s purrturbing!
CT: D--> I agree
CT: D--> E%tremely purrturbing
CT: D--> And by that I mean perturbing
Your non-drawing hand is still in Pounce’s fur, rising and falling in time with the huge cat’s breathing. You have this sinking feeling that maybe you shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be with Pounce in your cave-hive. You wish you could see Equius, wish you could know what he’s feeling besides ‘perturbed’. If nothing else, you feel that you two should be together for whatever is going on right now—whatever’s happening right now can’t be any good, and the point of having a moirail is to have someone to lean on in bad times!
AC: :33 < what do you think it means?
CT: D--> Well
CT: D--> If I was going to guess
CT: D--> I would say that we are both either asleep or
He takes another excruciatingly long pause in his typing, and you feel like your little green heart might explode from the stress and anticipation. You let go of Pounce to grip onto the side of your tablet as you write desperately:
AC: :33 < or what????
And finally:
CT: D--> Dead
You can feel the burn of green tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and you shoot a glance towards your lusus—
But your cave suddenly starts to rumble and groan, and you recognize the sound of an oncoming cave-in. You jump to your feet as huge chunks of rock begin to fall from the ceiling, and you call out to your lusus to wake up andrun, but the stupid kitty is fast asleep, smiling contently with her double mouths, and she can’t hear you.
And you remember, she didn’t hear you the first time this happened, either. You were forced to abscond and leave her in her little cat-bed, and she was crushed by the ceiling of your cave when a meteor landed on it.
And as soon as you realize that, you’re out in the open, looking at the deep hole full of rubble where your cave once was. You know Pounce De Leon is dead under all the wreckage, know it because you remember digging through the rock and dirt to uncover her crushed body. You don’t do that this time; you feel like you never need to see the image of your destroyed custodian ever again. Still, repeated experience notwithstanding, your heart feels heavy and you feel you owe it to yourself and your moirail to report this latest development.
AC: :33 < oh my gog equius!!!!! my cave just collapsed!!!!!
AC: :33 < and i don’t feel like this was the furst time!!!!
CT: D--> Oh Nepeta
CT: D--> I’m so sorry
CT: D--> Are you okay
AC: :33 < yes i’m fine, but i think my lusus died :((
AC: :33 < again!!! DD:
AC: :33 < and i remember purrfectly that i was not talking to you when this happened the furst time!!!
CT: D--> Nepeta
CT: D--> Where are you
For a second you’re irritated with him, because didn’t you just say you were at your cave? But your catlike curiosity kicks in and you look around—
And shriek, because this long, metal-plated hallway is emphatically not Alternia.
And yet—and yet you feel like you know where you are, but you just can’t really remember why exactly. Your head is starting to hurt a little; you’re reminded vaguely of having a song stuck in your head but not remembering the title or any of the lyrics.
Frustrated, you turn back to your tablet.
AC: :33 < oh my gog!! i’m in the veil now!!
AC: :33 < how do i know what that is!!!
CT: D--> It’s okay
CT: D--> I’m here too
CT: D--> Although I also cannot e%plain how I know where we are
AC: :33 < stay where you are equius! i’m going to come find you!!!
CT: D--> Wait, Nepeta
AC: :33 < what!!
CT: D--> Do you hear any honking
Your spine goes rigid.
Oh no, you didn’t want to remember that, you wanted that to stay stuck in your little green brain forever, no, no, no, no.
You can hear honking in your head, can picture your moirail on the ground, bleeding blue from his neck, can feel rage and despair bubbling in your chest anew—you fight it down; you know you’re safe, Equius is safe…The honking isn’t real; this hallway is completely empty. You can’t even hear the echoes of your fellow trolls in the computer lab or in their rooms; you feel completely alone here in the Veil, save your pale soul-mate, wherever he is.
AC: :33 < thank gog, no!!!
CT: D--> Good
CT: D--> I’m near the roboti% pile, if you remember where that is
AC: :33 < i do!! i’m coming equius!!!!
CT: D--> I’ll be here
You drop the tablet at your feet and break out into a run on all fours; you probably look ridiculous, but you don’t care. No one can hope to beat you in a sprint-off; you are simply the best there is.
You’re running fast enough that you don’t really get a good look at the scenery, but your eyes still catch on certain things, and when that happens, unbidden memories hit you like waves, some pleasant, many painful. Your memory has completely returned to you, save a few moments that elude you near the end. You remember saying goodbye to your moirail and promising to see him again soon, remember watching, paralyzed, as the Highblood choked your moirail and left him limp on the floor, remember the rage and desire for instant revenge as well as the desperate hope that somehow Equius was still alive, if only barely…and after that everything goes black, so filled were you with hate, and not the caliginous sort.
Your step very nearly falters, but you keep going, can’t let yourself stop.
Finally, you make it to the transportilizer that will take you to your moirail. You don’t even slow down once you get onto the pad; you hit the ground running once you’ve been trasportilized, and skid to a stop in order to quickly locate Equius.
And he’s right where he promised to be, right by the robotics-pile, standing up to greet you.
:33 < equius!!!
You quickly close the distance which separates the two of you, giving your moirail a fierce hug, throwing your arms around his neck so your feet hang off the ground by a few inches. He keeps his hands hovering gently on your waist, careful not to apply any pressure; you can feel how tense his body is with the effort he’s making not to hurt you. He bends slightly forward so your feet touch the ground and cautiously brings you closer to him. He puffs out a breath that ruffles your hair.
D--> Nepeta, I was worried
He pulls back slightly to look at you, smiling with his broken teeth, but the expression falls quickly.
D--> Oh
D--> Oh no
You unlock your hands from around his neck and move to grip the straps of his tank-top, giving him wide eyes, which seem to make him balk even more.
:33 < what!!
D--> Your eyes
:33 < what about my eyes!!
You bite your lower lip and cross a boundary that most other trolls usually assume is a danger to their own lives; you remove your moirail’s sunglasses to look him in the eyes—
And there’s nothing to see in his eyes, just white emptiness. His brow furrows low over the empty eyes, and you know now what he’s seeing when he looks into yours.
And you remember.
Remember pouncing at Gamzee, remember being forced to slice open his face, remember being tossed around like a rag-doll before being beaten half to death with a club…remember being left to bleed out next to your moirail, remember…dying.
Fuck.
:33 < oh
:33 < oh no
:33 < so gamz33 really DID kill us DD:
:33 < this is the pawpposite of what i wanted to happen!!!! DDX
D--> Yes
D--> That is exactly what I was thinking
>D--> This outcome is what you could call
D--> Pawful
Surprised laughter bursts out of you at the unexpected pun, and you hug him tightly again, around the waist this time, burying your face in his chest, and he lightly presses one hand into the small of your back, the other in-between your shoulder-blades. It’s funny, though; you’ve been in this position with him before, when you were…alive, and even that light touch hurt just a teensy bit, was just a little too much pressure no matter how hard he tried. Now…now it really does feel like he’s only barely touching you, like his strength has been neutralized by…by death. And that thought makes you…well, it makes you want him to squeeze you back, makes you want to finally feel what it’s like to get a proper hug from your favorite troll in the universe. And really, you shouldn’t be thinking about hugs and cuddles—you should be freaking out a little more about the fact that you and Equius are DEAD—but your mind can’t help looking towards the bright side. And as his moirail, it’s your duty to share this revelation with Equius.
:33 < h33h33h33!!!
:33 < well maybe it isn’t a cat-astrophe! at least we’re together!!
:33 < and maybe since we’re dead you can’t hurt me if we cuddle!!!
He pulls back from the soft hug to stare at you with his lifeless white eyes, and for a moment looks offended at the very idea, offended because his entire life he’s known as a fact that he can never hold someone like you’re suggesting. But then his brow furrows again in thought, and, slowly, his expression softens. He lifts a hand to twiddle with a lock of his long hair, a nervous habit that you find adorable beyond all measure, and finally speaks again, sounding fond and hopeful.
D--> That suggestion is e%tremely silly
D--> However
D--> If you think it is safe
D--> I think I would like to cuddle very much <>
:33 < h33h33!!! <> <> <>!!!!!
Suddenly elated despite everything, you jump up to wrap your arms around his neck again, and this time his arms go around your waist as well, a comfortable pressure that feels just right, and he backs up to flop into the robotics-pile, keeping you locked in position, not jostled in the least. You snuggle into him, pressing chaste, pale kisses to his face, and the arms around your waist give an experimental squeeze, and gog. No one ought to be as happy as you are so soon after being murdered. It’s vaguely indecent, even to you, but you don’t care. As far as you can tell, death is meaningless and you’re with your moirail, and even if neither of you can be with the matesprit of your dreams, you’ll be damned if you can’t be happy together. The two of you are okay, and you’re cuddling. What more can you ask for?