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The pit of the Coliseum was loud, crowded, sweaty and bloody. Up until now he assumed the orange gunk was something that was normal in these lands, but seeing how it swelled on some fools, crippling or even immobilizing them, he slowly began to realize that this… sickness, that infected their blood and rotted their brains… he realized it was a lot worse than he originally thought.
A rather small fool next to him is whimpering to themselves, trying to put a piece of shell back onto their carapace. It looks gnarly, and the mostly blue blood diluted with orange tells him they, just like him, have only recently arrived. Tiso watched with disgust, because there isn’t anything else he can really feel while looking at this small bug attempting to put themselves back together. Their wounds look infected, and there’s a rather large cyst growing on their neck that forces them to look at an upwards angle. Tiso sighs, he needs to look at literally anything else.
He scans across the pit, searching for other fools worthy of going against him. He sees one giant fool, who is currently cutting off orbs of that orange sludge from their back. Tiso nearly throws up when he sees one of the blobs of sludge grow legs and scramble away. What the genuine fuck was that? There’s another fool nearby who’s cutting at their helmet with their blade in an attempt to break the metal. Their helmet is so bashed in that their head must also be deformed at this point, and the gentle streams of dried orange running through the holes in the visor prove his point. They finally manage to break one of the bars off, and quickly shove a piece of stale bread into their mouth, followed by a glass of dirty water.
Disgusting. Absolutely vile in every sense of the word (though it doesn’t surprise him that none of Hallownest has warriors like him. He is the Mighty Tiso the Conqueror, no one could ever even compare to him or his strength). His eyes land on another fool tied to the ceiling by their lowest legs. The rope around their leg is tied so tightly that their right leg, which is completely disconnected from their body, is still stuck to their left leg, which is barely attached to begin with. Tiso notices another fool staring at the poor ceiling fool as they sharpen their blade. Their visor is up and a small bit of bile dribbles out of their mouth and down their chin, and their mandibles are broken completely off, likely so that they can fit their relatively small helmet on their head.
Just looking at these… weak, disgusting, wounded warriors make Tiso cringe. It’s just… it’s all so awful and… His eye is caught by another fool, completely free of bruises, injuries, or that awful orange gunk. The God Tamer. Her shiny, crimson armor and tan tunic sticking out amongst the other fools, whose armor is covered in dust, ash, dirt, and blood. She looks at him, and then walks away, and he has the urge to follow her, figure out who she is. Remember something he’s forgotten.
——
Quirrel is awoken by the quiet whimpers of Tiso, who is currently squirming, his eyes clenched shut, his fists holding the blanket tightly. The entire bed is a mess, pillows pushed off, blankets tangled and wrapped around his legs as he continues to kick and let out pitiful sounds of pain, but when Quirrel places a hand on him, he does not respond.
“Tiso?” Quirrel asks, cautiously. “Are you okay, love?” There's no response, not even a hint that Tiso heard his question. The ant keeps squirming, kicking, thrashing. He must be asleep, Quirrel decides. Perhaps a nightmare, perhaps some of the dying remnants of the infection that everyone has at least a little bit of (even years after the Old Light has dimmed, her remains still decompose. Quirrel can only hope she will be completely gone soon).
Quirrel presses a kiss against Tiso’s neck and tightens his hug around them, pressing his chest against the ant’s bare back (because Tiso always insists that he sleep shirtless. “I must show off my muscles in case of a home intruder” he says, like his muscles will scare anything bigger than a tiktik. Tiso also complains about how cold it is, but still refuses to wear a shirt to bed, even when it’s snowing outside. Tiso is so stubborn and Quirrel loves him so much). The least he can do is try and keep them still, so they don’t flop right off the bed. Having Tiso be grumpy from a nightmare is one thing, but having Tiso be grumpy due to him doing something stupid is entirely different. And plus, Quirrel doesn’t want his boyfriend to hurt. He untangles Tiso from the blankets and gently drapes the sheets over the pair of them before retrieving a pillow off of the floor.
Tiso mumbles something, the name Spencer being the only thing Quirrel can understand.
Oh. He’s having one of those nightmares.
Quirrel rubs Tiso’s shoulders gently, pressing another kiss to his neck. Tiso stirs, squirms, and eventually manages to flip over, facing Quirrel. His eyes are open, and he’s covered in a thin layer of sweat. “You okay, love?” Quirrel asks again, pulling Tiso closer to him and pressing his forehead against the ants.
“Yeah, it’s… just another bad dream.” Tiso says, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He squirms a little bit, getting comfortable in Quirrel’s arms.
“Wanna talk about it? Get it off your chest?” Quirrel suggests as he places more and more kisses on Tiso’s forehead. The ant frowns at the display of affection but presses his head closer to Quirrel.
“It’s just… I had another dream about… the Coliseum, and Xena. She blamed me for what happened back at the Colony, before I left and… I… I still feel awful, I wish she knew that… I tried my best. Does it make my failure less awful, what happened because of it, if I tried my best? Is my failure still just as awful? Hells, Spencer would still be alive if it wasn’t for me and my stupid attempts at heroism.” Tiso mumbles, not even completely sure if what he’s saying makes sense, but Quirrel nods in understanding, he always does, he always understands, no matter how nonsensical Tiso thinks himself and his ramblings to be.
“I know how you feel. I thought myself to blame, after Monomon passed, but… but I know now. I know that there was nothing I could have done to save her. There was nothing you could have done either. You did your best, and even though it wasn’t enough, it’s still the best you could have done.” Quirrel says back. Tiso nods silently. “By the gods, you’re freezing! Put your shirt on!” Quirrel teases, grabbing Tiso’s discarded shirt and shoving it at his chest.
“No! Get it away from me! I can’t wear my shirt, what if someone murders me in the night? I can’t be found dead and unsexy! If I am to be found dead, I need people to remember how hot I am.” Tiso mumbles, a smile on his face.
“Fine, fine. I’ll let you stay sexy, but you better keep warm.” Quirrel says, but by the time he’s finished talking, Tiso is already snoring again, face pressed against Quirrel’s neck, warm breath blowing up against his antenna, shirt pushed away into some hidden depths of their shared bed..
Quirrel loves this fool so much.