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Chapter Text

Karkat pulled the sleeve of his sweater over his hand and wondered if he'd taken enough precaution for the 200th time. Though he'd only been in the cave for one hour, he had already stumbled across spikes, pits, and screech beasts. Even his close encounters with drones weren't half as scary as traversing this maze in the dark. He stared at rocks before stepping on them, wishing he had brought impenetrable armor to wrap himself in. Up ahead, Megido was practically skipping through blood-curdling passageways with the merriment of a fairy tale character, and Captor was floating carefreely on a wave of psionics.

He didn't want to admit jealousy was the reason he kept looking up at them. How could they be so relaxed in a creepy abandoned brooding cavern? He whined. If he was ever going to stand a chance at being a threshecutioner, he needed to be more like them. He also needed to stop rubbing his arms with enough force to start a fire.

As he trudged to the next horrid obstacle, he tried to think happy thoughts. Like not dying or slicing his shoulder on a rock. Luckily he had made it past the knife pit of stalagmites 6.5 minutes ago, and nothing could be worse than that. Right?

Wrong. Because when the fuck had anyone ever ended a thought with 'right' who had actually been right? He approached Megido who was standing with her hands on her hips, overlooking a dark abyss. The psion floated above it like a wriggler pool, even though it was the size and depth of the ocean.

"Careful," the cave fanatic smiled. "One fall down here and you'll be more than six feet under."

A lump formed in Karkat's throat, which he only managed to swallow after a few tries. He covered his mouth to muffle the noise as much as possible.

Captor leaned his head back as he circled around a jagged stalactite. "Jeez, AA, would it kill you to be any less morbid?"

"Perhaps!" Her voice that was way too cheerful given the subject matter echoed through the cavern, and Karkat pinched his aural nubs until she spun around. "Are you ready for this?" She asked.

Like the bravest of trolls, he nodded. Ever since he invited himself had been invited on this excursion, he'd been practicing his rope tying skills in his spare time. Day after day, night after night. Megido had seen pictures of his progress and was well aware he could make a perfect knot all by himself. He asked her to go first so he could prove it, clutching his fingers anxiously.

Delighted, she unwound the rope around her waist and pulled a stake out of her backpack. She knelt on the ground before hammering it into the thick ledge with a **CLINK, CLINK, CLINK.**

"Hey, KK," Captor yelled over the noise (and the ridiculous gap between them).

"Quiet," he growled, peering at the way she moved her rope.

Megido held the end of it up to her stake, then, in one second, performed the most complicated and irreplicable dance with her fingers. Karkat blinked. How the hell did she do that? He wished he could press replay on his life so he could take notes, but it kept speeding forward. His breath quickened, and his acid sack got on a broken elevator and dropped 3 stories.

"You good?" The words were a jolt of electricity. Megido patiently waited for an answer, sitting down, kicking her legs over the abyss like a park bench.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he pounded his chest.

Past-him deserved to be tortured for every second that led to this moment, he thought, maintaining his cool facade.

"Alrighty then."

His friend maneuvered around the ledge, making it look easy. When she was hovering over a 200 ft drop that made even the grim reaper squeamish, she loosened her grip on the rope so she could 'slide' down. She was gone in an instant. That broken elevator in Karkat's stomach plummeted faster and deeper than he could afford. Swaying on his feet, becoming dizzy, he backed away from the edge of the ledge.

"Bombs away, huh?" Captor mumbled while starting to land from his obnoxious flight.

Blowing him off, Karkat hunched down by her stake and looked at the series of loops she had created one last time. His method might not have been as good as hers, but his knot *had* to be or else... His eyes were drawn to the daunting blackness at the bottom and scratch marks along the walls. He recalled his hours of practice when he began anchoring his stake into the ground. Then, he fastened his rope exactly how he was taught, but wrapped it around a few extra times to be safe.

In an unusual turn of events, his contraption did not seem to fall apart. It stayed in place while he overcame the dastardly ledge. Back when they were chatting on Trollian, Megido said that was the hardest part, and climbing the rope would be smooth sailing. As the cool cave air cleaned the sweat off his skin, he wondered if she was right. His stomach didn't hurt nearly as much now that he was in the pit. From this point, all he had to do was put one hand under the other, then one foot under the other, again and again. It was so simple even a fool could do it.

Captor floated down next to him with a look that said he was tired of being ignored.

Karkat rolled his eyes. "What do you want, you over dramatic attention worm?"

His face snapped from looking like he was going to bitch about him on his socials to looking like he normally did. A know-it-all cunt. "The usual," he said casually, "for you to cut the bullshit."

"I haven't been giving you any bullshit lately, so unless you're neck deep in a cow's anus..." He trailed off, steadily progressing down the rope.

"Uh-huh," Captor crossed his arms and stared at him way too long with his unnerving mutant eyes. "Why did you ask to come with us?"

Karkat scowled, "I told you. To keep you company since your girlfriend was going to drag you on this misadventure anyway."

"Is that really all?"

"Yes," he gritted his teeth. "Not everything has a double meaning that you can jerk your bulges to!" His voice rose to a shout. He retracted his tongue so he could concentrate on climbing. Of course, he had stupidly turned his head toward Captor when he said that last thing, and turned it back too quickly. This caused the rope to ripple, and he clutched it like an animal clinging to its maternal lusus.

His friend instantly put his hands out as if he was trying to catch him. Not that he fell. He didn't.

"Shit shit ok fine! I believe you! Look, can I please just give you a ride to the bottom just this once, KK?"

Karkat bristled, coming down from a wave of panic.

"If you even try to use psionics on me, I will roll a boulder over you."

His friend nodded but clearly didn't seem pleased. Karkat flicked his tongue out because he had gotten so sick of everyone being worried about him that he'd lost the energy to articulate his anger.

After more climbing and more pointless jabber, he finally could gaze at the ground without feeling nauseous. It was only 10 feet below him. Unlike before, it was lit up by the red and blue light that emanated from the psion's powers. He raced to the ground, and--yes!--he got there before Captor!

While he watched the psion take his sweet time to sink down, Megido stepped into the light.

"Where to next?" He bounced on the balls of his feet.

She just smiled and swished a red glowing hand. The rope hanging next to his glowed and rose like an enchanted snake. It slithered out of the brightly lit circle, forming a dim path to a fissure. When the snake's head disappeared behind a wall, she announced, "That's the library we've been looking for. I'll have to go through the trapdoor to collect the drone parts in the basement, but you and Sollux can stay up there."

Captor softly hit the floor at that exact moment.

Megido drooped her eyelids and finished her speech by saying, "After all, it seems you two want some privacy."

Karkat jumped, "What do you mean?"

"Your conversation."

"You heard that?"

"It's a cave. They're known for echoing," she made a poor attempt at covering up a laugh.

His legs failed to budge. A melted ice drop plopped on his head without any consequence. He couldn't believe she thought he wanted to give Captor the moonlight of night. That was below cleaning his lusus's defecation tray and trying one of Gamzee's sopor pies on his list of desires. Before he could protest, he remembered the alternative. Not staying in the library meant facing a drone. Sure, it'd be dead and probably harmless, but he did not need *another* reason to throw up.

When he followed the rope, the darkness shrank him. He felt tiny as if he was passing through an imperial block until he squeezed through the tight fissure. Suddenly, the smell of mold, wet paper, and fermenting flesh invaded his snort barrels. He pulled his sweater over his sniff node in the vain hope it would filter the stench; instead, it flavored it with his ugly hot breath. The girl in front of him seemed to be pretending the smell didn't bother her. The boy behind him whined that it smelled like shit. Whether they got used to it or not, they stumbled into the library, ending their long journey. Red and blue light shined on a disheveled rug, bookshelves that lined the entire perimeter, and fabrics that hung from each corner. Despite everythings' old, worn out state, Karkat thought the block looked… oddly cozy.

As he took it all in, Megido slid the rug to reveal a trap door was hiding underneath it. She propped it open and slipped half-way down. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she said, looking at the boys.

Somehow, they hadn't realized they were standing right next to each other until that moment. When Karkat bowed his head to show acknowledgement, he caught Captor eyeing him skeptically during his own bow. With a huff of iill-humored irritation, he stared back. Megido couldn't see their ocular war though, so she left, thinking they had got the memo. They refrained from blinking or averting their attention for a full minute. Finally, Captor let out a sigh.

"If you don't want me to ask why you came along again, quit staring at me," he said.

"You were staring at me first."

"No," he said emphatically, "I only stared back at you to piss you off because you were staring at me."

Karkat groaned, "You're such a nook chafing wriggler, you know that? Why don't you go read a book?"

Even without any discernible eye structure, he could tell when Captor rolled his eyes in exasperation. Following orders, he walked by some bookshelves, perusing faded and water-damaged covers. Not long later, he used his psionics to pull a random book out and suspended it in mid-air.

"What do you think this is? A diary?" He asked boredly. The cover had no title like a personal writing cuboid, but since this seemed like a weird place to keep secrets, Karkat thought it was something else.

"More likely a document log for the trolls that used to work here."

"Hmm." He flipped to a random page, but his mouth fell open instead of reading it. "It's not even in Alternian."

"What?" Karkat glanced at the levitating book, then peered at the strange letters. "I don't know what language that is at all."

"Must belong to the aliens that roamed Alternia before us," Captor joked.

Karkat couldn't believe he was bringing up that troll conspiracy crap. Still, there was something he wondered. "Do you think all of them are written like that?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I like to think I happened to pick the most special book," his voice twinkled angelically with sarcasm.

After rolling his eyes, Karkat looked around the library too, but it was hard to decide what to pull out because every cover looked almost the same: disease filled, moldy, decrepit.

His friend made another book fly off the top shelf past his face. "I bet this will interest you. Let's seeee." as he dragged out his vowel, a pink book with crudely drawn quadrant symbols dangled in the air. A corner of it had been torn off despite being hard cover, leaving just half the title, not that Karkat could read it anyway since it wasn't in Alternian.

"Chapter One," Captor cleared his throat. He opened the book to somewhere in the middle instead of the first page, probably because the idiot didn't know how to read. "The highblood undressed her slowly with his eyes, then deftly with his fingers."

"You're the worst," the romance lover tried to say with a straight face.

He turned back to the shelf to see if any others had vaguely discernible drawings on their covers, but Captor seemed to have found the only one. Maybe he'd have better luck looking at the front instead of the spines, so he started to pull one out. Just as he tipped it toward him with his finger, a hair-raising bug scuttled out from underneath. He jumped so far back that the book flung toward the drapes on the other side of the block.

"What was that?" Captor asked alertly.

Karkat walked over to his mess in silence, trying to hold his head up high like a soldier. Despite this, somehow, his friend figured out what happened after two seconds.

"Did you get scared by an itty bitty bug?" His nasal voice sounded as annoying as ever.

He growled and squat down near the drapes to look for his book. It was entangled in the old fuzzy fabric, so he reached in to get it out. To his surprise, the curtain blew inwards with the barest touch. He blinked, then saw that a dark space had opened up like a mysterious level in a videogame. A more thorough inspection revealed something was gleaming within. Wondering why Karkat kept staring at the corner, the psion shuffled behind him, which shed literal light on the room. Its floor was covered in rusty knocked-over buckets, and splintery shelves dangled from the walls. At the center of the mess stood an out-of-place, clean green and red chest, adorned with snake carvings. The boys looked at each other in confusion, then stared at it for a long time.

"What's that doing there?"

"I don't know…" Captor mumbled, starting to back away.

Then Karkat realized this was his opportunity to prove his bravery. Life had, for once, answered his prayers! He shuffled on his knees toward the striking chest, forgetting every taunt, every insult his friends had ever told him. "You're too chicken, someone like you could never be a threshecutioner..." Fuck that looping noise in his pan because he was about to turn everything around. When he knelt next to the chest, he patted the sides in search of that line that separated the bottom from the top.

"There's probably heinous sex things in that," Captor warned uncomfortably.

"Sounds to me like you're too afraid to find out." Karkat smirked, wedging his fingers beneath the lid.

"KK, quit acting like you're hot shit when we both know you would wet your pants if a spider crossed your path. Let's go back and just wait for AA."

The teenage troll let out a frustrated tsk. He hadn't made it this far only to succumb to fear. "I'll just take peek," he said impertinently.

He hadn't expected the lid to feel like a ton of bricks. When he tried to lift it open, beads of sweat rolled down his muscular arms. Envisioning there would be a secret treasure, a reward for spending his whole life training to be a threshecutioner, kept him going in spite of the pain. With a hefty heave, he flipped the lid open.

A beautiful glow emanated from the chest for all of two seconds.

"KK!" Captor screamed before a blistering, hot, electric shock surged through his body. His breath was driven out of his air sacks, and his pulse hammered with enough force to knock a trunk beast off its feet. He tried to scream for help with what little air he had left, but he couldn't hear himself to know if he did it over the cackle of thunder.

Begging for Captor to pull him away from whatever the fuck was happening, he hoped this cruel fate wasn't effecting anyone other than him. Darkness was the chest's final attack, and it ripped him apart before he could cry.

…

It sounded like his head was in a beehive when he became conscious again. He opened his eyes, and suddenly a disjointed haze receded to the edges of his vision. The bare amount of things that he could see made zero sense. Grey and blue lines sprinted back and forth, up and down, on a coal black background. Where was a light?

A light… The better question was: where was he?

He knew something important had happened a few moments ago, but it definitely hadn't been him saying "Okay! I'm going to move to this dark creepy place and lie down now."

His arms burned like he had rolled over an electric stove.

Oh God

All of a sudden, his memory washed away the hardworking words trying to build cohesive thoughts in his pan. He pushed his hands against the ground and sprang his back up without giving a plague vermin's ass that it hurt.

"Captor?" He screamed. Then he smeared his fists into his eyes, hoping it would make him see better, but everything got more blurry.

Because he had an abusive relationship with his gut, he patted the ground until he heard an agonizing groan from behind him. Red and blue eyes blinked open, giving off just enough light to see the busted glasses on his friend's face. He rubbed his head, but at least he was moving, Karkat thought.

"What happened?" He licked his dry lips as he pushed himself up.

Karkat, still trying to make sure his friend was okay, analyzed his raspy voice. It must've hurt to talk, so when he explained the situation, he tried to cover everything that he would possibly need to know so he wouldn't have to ask any follow-up questions. In the middle of his spoken word essay, the impatient troll cut him off.

"Where's AA?"

"Still in the basement," he supplied, hoping he was right.

"Then what are we waiting around here like a bunch of assholes for?" Captor wobbled to his feet. He tripped backwards, so the shorter troll caught him in his arms. Unable to support his awkwardly tall body shape, he tried to shove him back into an upright position. Before he could move him though, Captor leapt off him in embarrassment. There was a silent agreement to never bring up that moment again, then they stepped into the library. Suddenly that feeling that something important had happened became the most disturbing thing in the world.

From the moment Karkat had woken up, a tingling feeling crawled up his neck, chanting that something was wrong specifically because of what he did. Of course, it was right. The library had magically spruced itself up: getting rid of the smell, disinfecting the books, and giving the rug a vibrant jade color. Glowing mushrooms hung from the ceiling like fairy lights, casting an eerie blue light on the new looking furniture. Captor's eyes widened as they took it all in, then he kneeled beside the rug. When he ripped it off the floor, a perfectly in-tact trap door sealed off the place Megido had gone to.

Immediately running to help him pry it open, Karkat feared about what he did to her.

"It's locked," he cried after trying to yank it open with more force than he used on his own trap door before a drone raid.

The frantic psion already had a solution. A book bound in red and blue light rocketed off a shelf, zipping past Karkat's aural nub. Captor angled it so its corner was pressing into the center of the trap door like a spade, then he pressed his weight down on it. Not his own weight, which wouldn't be nearly enough. He pushed his hands against the ground so the weight of all his psionic power would make the book dig into the wood. It cracked before obliterating into pieces, opening up a dimly lit block below them.

Despite an uneasy feeling, Karkat slipped legs-first down the hole and stumbled over the broken planks at the bottom. Captor floated down behind him, calling for "AA". Since she didn't answer, there was no telling where she could be in this literal jungle. The block was actually filled with giant plants, most of which Karkat had never seen before. There were blue and purple fungi glowing on the ground, revealing several paths that twisted through the thicket of trees. He tightened his knees, feeling like he was standing on a railway turntable with all the directions he could go. Straight ahead, he decided suddenly. He pushed past the jungle leaves as if he had a knife to hack them off, and a tapestry hung from the wall he had come to.

It was blowing like the drapes from earlier, so he swallowed a lump in his throat before throwing it aside. "Megido?" He shouted, loud enough that the whole block could hear him.

It was coldly and utterly silent.

"...KK?" Captor's voice was like thin glass. The psion touched his shoulder as he looked over him, illuminating an empty room. The floor was cushioned with pink leaves, the same variety that surrounded Pyrope's hive, and they smelled freshly of lavender. There were three fabrics folded into squares sitting around a short table. Two on one side, one on the other. Weavings, rocks on strings, and misshapen clay figures decorated the wall, filling Karkat with the horrible impression someone lived here. He didn't want to know who; he just wanted to find Megido.

A pressure welled up inside him, making him feel sick, dizzy, and like he was going to pass out again. If this was how he felt, he couldn't imagine how much worse Captor was feeling that his matesprit was missing. Worried, Karkat looked up at him. Color drained from his face, and his apprehensive breaths turned into feeble noises.

"How can AA just disappear? How can the library just change? Why did we pass out? Where is she…" His questions became less and less answerable as he grasped his hair.

"She's probably left the cave by now," Karkat meant that to be more consoling than it sounded. He quickly added, "and gone home."

Not asking how he could possibly be sure of that, Captor nodded. They planned to get out of the cave the same way they came in and check for her in her hive. Though it would be tough without her guidance, they could get back by themselves--probably. After all, they'd been leaving a trail of little electronic lights before the pit, which was just a straight climb up. Ignoring the freakish clues that they had entered a different world, they pulled themselves back up to the library. Next, they walked through the wide fissure.

In the ballroom sized space ahead of them, yellow mushrooms scattered across the floor shined a faint light on clusters of eggs. Around each mushroom, of which there were hundreds, twelve huge eggs nestled together. 98% of the cave was pitch black, sending a shiver down Karkat's lumbar pole. How many more eggs were there that they couldn't see? And what monster had laid them? He quickly bent down and reached his hands out to make sure there was a clear path between them and where they wanted to go.

Yes! There wa–

A swing-like screech reverberated around the cave, making the planet tremble. The boys shot their heads at the unfathomable darkness, where a machine or something must've turned on. They crept back into the fissure, trying to see if any of the glowshrooms were close to the thing out there, but the layout looked the same as before.

Then they heard a stampede. They held each other, screaming, and stumbled back into the library. The air suddenly heated up, creating a goopy, distorted image. No sooner than the noise had stopped, a large bug-like face plopped down in front of the fissure that protected them. It smiled with all one thousand of the needles in its maw, and a stench like death wafted out.

Captor's eyes poured with tears, and he clung to Karkat with unbelievable intensity. As the wannabe threshecutioner wished he had brought his sickle, he kept his sights on the beast, vaguely aware the other was blowing his nose on his shoulder.

Unless it shrank 10 sizes, it couldn't get its fat head through the door, but that didn't mean it wasn't a threat. It could wait there until they starved to death. It could strangle them with its breath.

Suddenly, it rammed its head against the wall, which jostled all the bookshelves in the library. Karkat closed his eyes, letting out a childish squeak, and embraced his friend.

**FWEEEEEE**

Did someone just fucking whistle?

The high pitched noise came from outside, as clear as if the person who made it was standing right next to them. The beast poked its head up, leaving only its spongy bug body visible, then bounced off in another direction.

Captor mumbled, "We're in Hell, right?"

"I–"

He heard an echo of footsteps as someone approached the door. Curling his arms around Captor, he braced for whoever was about to show up. And by brace, he meant clenched his eyes shut, waiting to be culled, because whoever this troll was must have been God. No one could scare a grub-eating monster with just a whistle unless they were the most powerful troll on Alternia.

After a long excruciating moment, a pointed black boot stepped into the library, revealing the one thing scarier than a monster.

A full grown adult.

It should have been impossible for the boys to hug each other as tight as they did.

The sharp spires peeking out from her head almost reached the ceiling–and that was when they realized they were shaped exactly like Maryam's. Her hair was covered by a semi transparent fabric. She had hauntingly white skin and wrinkles under her eyes, making her look much, much older. The sickly yellow sclera made her jade pupils look like they had shrunk in shock and confusion. She stumbled backwards, tripping on her long dress, before bumping into a bookshelf on the opposite side of him and his friend.

"We're dead." Captor stared at her.

"Mituna? Kankri?" Her words were loud yet stilted, partly due to an accent that Karkat couldn't place.

They stayed together instead of responding to the weird names.

The adult straightened herself up, and her stature grew to match the level of intimidation that they felt around her. She spoke in a deep, earthy tone. "Here how did you get?"

"First of all, who the fuck are you?" Karkat forcibly puffed his chest out despite how stupid it was to threaten one of the most dangerous beings on Alternia without a weapon.

She jumped a little. "Dolorosa you may call me. Alright are you, darlings?"

Dolorosa? Of all the insane things that he'd been afraid of or almost killed by in the last 1 hour and 12 minutes, this scarred him more than that. Adult titles were chosen names for trolls who felt it was unpleasurable to give away their real names. Usually, they were given to strangers. …but if this was Maryam all grown up, why had she treated them as if they'd never met? He already knew, somehow, despite all physical and logical impossibility, he and Captor had skipped a significant chunk of time. Could they have traveled so many sweeps into the future that all their friends had forgotten them?

A hungering darkness almost consumed him. He thought he had left a bigger impact on his friends than that. Especially Maryam. Maybe Captor was right. This was hell. This doppleganger of Maryam was meant to torture him with his countless failures, and the worst part was his best friend was suffering alongside him.

Not-Maryam bent down so their height difference wouldn't be as… drastic. She raised her right hand, curling her fingers as if she was about to pap him. For a moment, Karkat considered leaning into her gesture, but Captor scooted against the wall, pulling him away. In retrospect, that was probably safer; however, Karkat desperately wanted to know how many sweeps had gone by, in case they weren't in Hell.

"What sweep is it?" He asked in that hiccupy, trying-to-hold-it-together voice that annoyed him.

Her brows knitted together. "The 28th sweep of the Condesce's reign, dear."

After hearing her answer, he felt numb. Whatever magic the chest had unleashed sent them 200 sweeps into the past. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? It didn't bring him any relief about his athazagoraphobia or about Megido, who was now farther away than he ever could've imagined. 200 sweeps farther away. Captor's eyes rapidly expanded, and a bone chilling silence filled the air.

Chapter Text

"Are you ready?"

"Yes–"

"Like hell you ain't. Let's go over the checklist again," Mituna shouted, pointing his finger under Kankri's chin.

"Sickle?"

"Hidden in my boot."

"Necklace?"

The bored troll adjusted his cloak so he could fish a necklace out from the inside of his shirt. As he placed it in plain view, Mituna inspected that the pendant was still two interlocking gold rings, a religious symbol among purple bloods, instead of his typical insignia. He moved on to the next question when he was satisfied.

"Willingness to suck up to these circus freaks as much as possible?"

Kankri rolled his eyes before answering a tired 'yes'.

"I've never heard you sound so miserable before a show," Mituna pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a grim laugh, and failed spectacularly. "You're starting to get it."

A cloud of mist chased Kankri's sigh of surrender through the cold air. As Mituna watched it fade away, he decided to let go of his friend's arms and take a step back so he could do those breathing exercises that usually calmed him down. His boots crunched against the snow that had fallen in the forest. Mouthing a silent curse word, he hoped that the noise hadn't been too distracting. Luckily the preacher's eyes were closed, and he mumbled a hymn to himself blissfully unaware. When the hymn ended, his eyes remained shut, and Mituna waited patiently for him to open them.

For about two seconds.

"Come on." He shook his shoulder, and Kankri jumped 10 feet in the air. "Quit worrying. You are the best preacher I know, and you're going to do great!"

He had said this to Kankri before, but the other still hadn't internalized it. "So great," he added, making a grand gesture for emphasis.

The feisty redblood retorted, "Doing great doesn't just mean I'll get the speech done and not die. Doing great means I'll convince at least one of the highbloods out there to join our cause. Do you honestly believe I can do that?"

He pursed his lips pensively, trying not to say the first thing that came to mind. A simple 'no'. Not because he was unpersuasive--in fact, Kankri's voice was a hook that could lure anyone to his side–but because purplebloods were the most obdurate people on the planet. They only liked religion and sopor; if you weren't one of those things, you had to get out. As Kankri's eyes embiggened, a pressure tightened around Mituna's shout valve, and he had to choose his words carefully so he wouldn't choke.

"I believe you can change at least one."

Flashing a small smile, Kankri rubbed his eyes as if there were tears in them, but Mituna knew they were drier than his tongue after drinking sopor.

"Stop that. You're not crying," he said.

"Snowflake landed in my eye earlier." Kankri forced his smile to look bigger, but Mituna wasn't buying his excuse.

"What? Do you want me to say you can change at least two?"

"No, no, one is enough." He put his hands up and waved them back and forth to show that he was satisfied. Then he turned toward the wooden stairs built into the back of their traveling stage.

A lump formed in Mituna's throat as a murder of featherfiends cawed on the other side of it. Loud chatter and clinking glasses rumbled from their audience, making birds fly away, screeching for other animals to get out. Mituna touched his face, taking a deep breath because God he needed one, then put both hands on Kankri's shoulders.

"Be careful," he said.

"You'll be on stage with me," he reminded him.

"I know….."

As the preacher marched up the steps, possibly-pale-possibly-flushed feelings swirled through Mituna's thinkpan, mixing with his grave concerns over tonight's sermon. If there was a button to turn his sponge off, he would smash it in a heartbeat. Not yet though, he thought, clutching the straps of his brown rucksack. He had a crucial duty to fulfill, and he refused to imagine what would happen if he failed.

With one boot on the highest step, Kankri gave him that 'are you coming?' look. Mituna ran like a hop beast through the snow and hammered up the stairs. He put himself in front of the troll he was protecting and shuffled to back stage right, where he could keep an eye on the audience.

The 15 or so clowns who had shown up were drinking and hollering and heckling the featherfiends, trying to pour sopor down their beaks. Mituna winced. Not only was that like pouring liquid gold down a trash chute, but also the birds were trying to fly away. They thrashed their wings, throwing snow on the logs that were spaced out like pews. In the back of the noisy venue, one clown slumped over in their seat neighbor's lap from the sheer amount of alcohol he consumed.

'Typical,' Mituna thought. He clenched his hands and whispered to whatever higher being was out there, "watch over Kankri please."

While panic dialed all his senses to 11, his friend strode to the edge of the stage and cleared his throat in a failed attempt to get everyone's attention. He started even though only two trolls had looked at him. "Tonight marks the 30th sweep since limes were culled or forced into hiding."

Mituna felt like he'd been punched in the gut. That wasn't the speech they'd planned–

But the preacher made his voice heard over all other noises in the vicinity. "The story of their persecution has become a parable among low'bloods'. First, they were enslaved and forced to reside in 'upper class land dwelling communities'. This meant most lime'bloods' were living next to the sea during a time when the caste order wasn't as rigid as it is today, and jahtees could become more or less prestigious through political favors."

Mituna was one second away from digging his nails into his palm with so much force that yellow blood would soak the inside of his glove. He shot his eyes at the highbloods, who were boredly prodding their friends with sticks. Kankri had no idea how lucky he was that none of them were paying attention, he thought, trying to slow down hisbreathing.

"Limebloods were abused by their 'masters', so they sought an alliance with violetbloods in order to gain more power. The only reason they even attempted this was because the abuse they suffered was terrible and constant. Alas, as the story goes, they were culled the moment someone discovered their plan to upset the hemoarchy."

Unable to tell if minutes or seconds had passed, Mituna flashed his eyes around the crowd in immobile horror. That one troll who had fallen asleep on someone's lap sluggishly rolled over and thumped against the snow. It wasn't the carnage he was expecting, but a premonition was welling up inside him.

Kankri seemed to grit his teeth before asking, "What if they hadn't been mistreated? What if the highbloods gave them the same respect that they give other highbloods? Then they would have happily worked for them without trying to climb above your–"

At that exact moment, a purpleblood in the front row glowered at the stage and brandished his sopor glass.

Scowling, Kankri finished with "other highbloods' castes."

Thank God that was finally over, Mituna thought as he gripped his head. Then he suddenly heard a glass shattering screech from the back row. He didn't know whether it was a scream for help or a war cry. His head spun toward the source of the noise faster than the animals that flew away.

"You pushed me off the log, you bastard!" Said a spiteful clown, brushing snow off his pants.

Unimpressed and unsurprised, Kankri and Mituna exchanged bored glances, then paid attention to the commotion like everyone else.

"You fell. Like you deserved. Don't you know it's rude to treat other people like your pillow?" His former seat neighbor hissed, and Mituna sighed.

'Imagine not having psionics,' he chuckled to himself and amassed a ball of energy between his horns. He stuck his hand out and stretched his fingertips toward an old gray tree just outside the clearing. The bark was already breaking apart, revealing a dead black inner layer, so he picked it up with his mind. When the trunk wobbled, its roots trudging through the soil, the crowd gasped. After wrangling all his power together, the psion uprooted the tree and let it fall on the ground with a bang.

Everyone, even Kankri, stared in awe until Mituna said, "Go sit over there." (using the polite imperative tense obviously).

The trolls packed on the other logs turned their heads toward the stage with a sudden interest. One smiled and raised his sopor glass in the air. "Do you do ships?" He asked.

'No, of course not,' Mituna thought. Being a helmsman sounded like the worst job in the world, and it had only recently become a thing due to Condesce's weird obsession with space. He was neither interested in the galaxy nor giving up his autonomy for 'glory' or whatever the fuck pilots were supposed to gain from their sacrifice.

"You know… I hear )(er Majesty is working on the biggest ship that the empire has seen yet. Perhaps trolls will conquer other planets some day," a girl giggled at the thought of colonization.

It was more annoying than anything really. He wasn't going to let their heckling get to him because he knew this sermon had to go well if he wanted to live. He sunk his head down to ignore them, but suddenly an angry shout reverberated through the field.

"My friend isn't interested in helming!"

Kankri, burning like an out-of-control hive fire, glared at the two trolls who had been talking about him and balled his fists.

For fucks sake. That was so not-in-the-plan that he wondered if Kankri had really been in the same block when he explained it or if he had been on the opposite side of the planet. He sighed, then squeezed his eyes shut. He used psionics to wrap Kankri's cloak around his mouth. The mutant tried to pull it off to no avail, and his screams became muffled squeaks. After wrestling with the thick tangle of fabric for six seconds, he put his hands down and glared at the psion, clearly pissed off. Mituna poked one of his eyes open nervously, and, if ever there was a look that said 'I love you' and 'sorry' all at once, it was written all over his face.

Despite his attempt to save the sermon, some of the clowns looked offended.

"What do you mean he's not interested in helming? Is he becoming a doctorturer? A legislacerator?" A haughty looking troll screwed her eyes at him as she named common jobs for city dwellers, which Mituna still looked like despite 4 sweeps in the country.

"A farmer," he joked.

"Aren't your powers more suitable for other things? Like helming? We already have rusties doing the farming."

The hairs on Mituna's neck stood up when she casually dropped a slur, but he maintained his submissive posture. With a deep breath, he released his grip on Kankri's clothes, hoping he had taught him not to yell at these freaks.

"You," the same purpleblood addressed the troll whom she thought was rust, "Why don't you farm for him?"

"I don't farm at all–"

"What?" Her voice became loud and pitchy. "Was this whole show seriously about you asking to be treated with respect when you don't even work for it?"

Considering she'd been swigging from a communal bottle of sopor, Mituna was surprised she even knew that much.

Kankri startled and put his hand on his chest. "No, I– I wasn't just speaking for myself. Every lowblood, whether you recognize them or not, works hard in this society. In fact, the lower castes make up the majority of farmers, ship builders, and threshecutioners. My mission is–"

"But what about you? Do you do nothing?"

"...I help in the brooding caverns," he said irritatedly.

Knowing that answer wasn't going to sit well with the highblood, Mituna braced himself by making psii flow to his fingertips. His brows knitted as he suppressed the urge to let out a few sparks. It wasn't easy to build up power without being noticed; his body felt like it was in shock torture and he needed to rip off all the electric pads rumbling against his skin.

"That's a jadebloods job," squawked the highblood. "Trying to be something you're not means you aren't helping the empire to your fullest potential!"

"Ininyi is right." The guy with glasses seemed all too eager to insert himself into the conversation. From the way he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, Mituna knew what he was about to say and groaned. A thin string of light arched off his eye that luckily no one saw.

"Your pissblood should be workin directly for the Grand Highblood or )(er Imperious Condesenson." He turned his stupid drunk head around and looked at everyone. "Di' yall see the way he lifted that tree? It takes roughfly a lot of power to move somethin that big."

"Don't call him 'mine' and don't call him a slur," Kankri yelled. Correcting their language wasn't going to get him anywhere though. He was better off debating literally anything else, and fortunately, he seemed to back off the subject.

"With current technology, helming doesn't allow for psions to retain their mental faculties. It slowly kills them, so we should be looking for other ways t–"

"Oh my God. Here we go again with the 'we need to look for other ways to power ships' shit," some bitch whined. "If you can name a fuel source that doesn't cause irreparable damage to this planet or would take years to harvest, I'm all ears."

Someone cheered her on by smashing a glass bottle against a log. Mituna squinted, but Kankri gave him a pleading look that he knew all too well. He wanted one more minute.

"There are already scientists working on more humane fuel sources. If the government just gave a small amount of recognition to them, then–"

"Changing how Alternians have gathered energy for hundreds of years would just be a waste of time and money."

"You want us to drop everything and fix things for you!"

"You haven't even done anything to deserve it."

"Just a bunch of leeches!"

Blood pounded in Mituna's ears. His bloodpusher thudded in his chest. His vision turned red and blue as he glared at the braindead fucks with one thought coursing through his pan.

He had to pull Kankri close to him because they couldn't stay here anymore without shit getting ugly. He knew this disaster was a tragic loss for the rebellion, but there was nothing he could do to fix it. Psionic flames engulfed them, and he kicked his boots off the stage. With a jolt, he bottle-rocketed into the sky. As he cut through the air, he could see the highbloods, who had stood up to shake their fists, become tinier and tinier.

As they made their escape, Kankri screamed almost as loud as the wind rushing past their aural nubs. The flight was excruciating for both of them. In a matter of seconds, Mituna opened his mouth and accidentally tasted a cloud.

'Far enough at last,' he thought, slowing down. Without hesitation, Kankri threw his arms around his neck and loudly gasped for air. The mutant was ice cold, so Mituna rubbed his back gently, creating friction. It felt like for hours he was just trying to comfort him against the purple Alternian sky, though really it was only a few minutes. When Kankri finally leaned back, he looked a little less pale than before to the psion's relief.

"WHAT. WAS. THAT." He screamed.

"Me saving our asses."

A hot glow emanated from Dolorosa's son's cheeks, then he cupped his face. "Language," he grumbled.

Mituna grinned until Kankri squirmed around to see the white canopy and the trolls they had left behind.

"I can't believe our first sermon with non-teal highbloods was a bust."

Mituna swallowed a ball of guilt. He had known this was a terrible idea since before they planned it. No one could just… reason with highbloods… not without some terrible fate befalling them.

"They were rejects anyway," he hoped that would give him solace. "The kind of clowns even purplebloods don't wanna be around."

For a moment, Kankri seemed even more disappointed. His head drooped and moved along the ground as if he was skimming the pages of a book.

Changing the subject, he pointed his finger at a clearing and said, "That looks like a good spot to land, don't you think?"

"I'm not landing," he said hesitantly.

"What? Why not?"

"I'm taking us home"

It had taken an hour to walk here since they didn't have a carriage, and Kankri had refused to let him 'waste' his energy on giving him a piggyback ride. Mituna had asked multiple times to just 'think of it as a gift' (because he was freezing his ass off) but Kankri maintained his stance. This time, the psion wasn't going to let him do that because he feared the purplebloods might go looking for them. Getting out as fast as possible was a much nicer alternative to getting beaten with broken glass bottles and bleeding in the snow.

Naturally, his friend tried to debate him.

"No, I don't want you to be treated like some… some helmsman… we should at least walk half way."

"We fly. Whole way. Or I ask your mom out on a date."

A mess of blush accumulated on his face. "She'll never go out with you! Stop embarrassing yourself," he yelled.

"It only embarrasses you, and I find that adorable." While he rubbed the short troll's head with his knuckles, he drifted through the sky toward home.

"But what if you get exhausted?" He said worriedly.

"We fall from 1000 feet and probably die in a fiery crash."

There were no words Kankri could say to convince him to land, so he started to gape and blabber wildly.

As they soared across the small forest and cities enclosed in psionic shields, they talked about the rebellion–and how it didn't need highblood support to flourish. A half hour later, they came to the quiet mountainside wherein lied Dolorosa's hive. The houses in the village next to it were starting to snuff their candles out, and the sky was starting to turn pink.

"Now are you glad we didn't walk home?" The psion asked his friend.

He reluctantly said yes, then asked to be put down. A slight yellow tinge colored Mituna's cheeks when he bossed him around like his mother. If he didn't know any better, he would interpret this as pitch flirting.

Why weren't he and Kankri in a quadrant?

The thought dwelled in his pan despite the fact that he knew the answer, and he berated himself for getting distracted while starting to descend. Soon, he could lie in his respite block and get rid of his stupid gushy feelings, soon…

When they were a foot above the ground, Kankri managed to throw himself out of his grip and stick the landing. They were right in front of the brooding cavern's "backdoor", a troll-made tunnel that led down to the various hives inside. The psion rolled his energy back into his eyes since the path was lit by Catrak that grew along the wall. As they made their way to the library, they tried to stomp the sticky snow off their boots to save themselves from frostbite.

Nothing seemed off about their hive when they entered the book block. When Kankri lifted the rug, it was a different story.

"Huh," he said. "Didn't the door used to be made out of wood?"

"What?" Still blowing hot breaths on his hands, Mituna lurched forward to see what he was talking about. Sure enough, the wooden door had been replaced with a stone slab for some reason.

"I guess DL redecorated," he commented.

They slid the heavy slab out of the old door's spot before dropping down into the vegetation block. It surprised both of them that it didn't have a lock, but they shrugged it off, trusting DL's instincts.

Before they'd taken their cloaks off, the lady in question ran out from the lounge and embraced them in a hug.

"You need to meet my new friends–urgently!" She cried without any warning.

Kankri and Mituna looked at each other before being caught off guard by Dolorosa's patented ear pinch™. She grabbed one ear from each of them and scurried back to the block she had come from. Unsure why these new friends were so important, Mituna started to worry there was something dangerous going on…

He couldn't be more shocked after she shoved them past the curtain.

A miniature version of Kankri and a miniature version of himself were kneeling beside the table, wearing the strangest clothes he'd ever seen.

He gasped, and Kankri slapped a hand across his mouth, taking a step back. His bloodshot eyes were as wide as the moon, and he spoke for both of them when he asked, "Who…"

Mini-Kankri flitted and said, "Well, we've come to the conclusion that we're your descendents."

Dolorosa clapped her hands together, smiling at the looks on their faces.

Holy shit

There were so many questions welling up inside Mituna.

Without a second thought, he asked the most pressing one.

"When did I get laid?

All the hairs on Kankri's body stood up like a meowbeast, and he hissed his name. Everyone else looked at him with a mix of surprise, giddiness, and amusement, except his descendant who rolled his eyes.

"Mituna, why would you say that?" Kankri dragged his name out whinily.

He huffed and arched an eyebrow, looking straight at him. "Oh come on, we both know you and Meulin–"

"Not. In front of. The children!"

Mini-Kankri decided that the table was now a podium and slammed his hands on it to object to being a child. He was 6. In his own words, that "basically made him an adult."

Mituna felt his heart flutter and thought about pinching the kid's little cheeks. An adult, right. He tried to hold in a laugh because that was plain adorable and grinned like the cheshire cat. He looked back at his own descendant, hoping he would say something funny too, but instead, the teen silently swirled the black tea in his cup.

After mini-Kankri lowered his voice to a normal volume, he addressed Mituna's first question. "We come from 200 sweeps in the future, so you could get laid anytime between now and then." He kept his explanation concise, which came off a bit unusual. It was at this point Mituna realized his dialect was Imperial Military Alternian, the kind he had grown up with.

Shit, he hoped the kid didn't speak it for the same reason as him.

Probably wondering the same thing, Kankri's brows knitted together in concern. "In the future, how are lowbloods and mutants treated?"

The children bristled, and his descendant put his cup down.

They sat in awkward silence until Dolorosa cleared her throat and suggested, "why don't we save those heavier subjects for later?"

But Kankri ignored her. "Who's the empress in the future?"

His descendant scooted backwards as if they were coming off too strong, and Karkat answered, "...Condesce."

Reality broke in absolute silence. Mituna dropped the glass fragment of hope that his descendants had gotten to live normal lives, and Kankri's lips became limp as he stared at the shattered remains of their ambition. Even Dolorosa gazed at her feet. All three of them failed to bring justice to the world. For a moment, Mituna understood why his descendant hadn't spoken to him. Then he wondered if he even knew him. A noxious roil of emotions welled inside him as the air became unbearably hard to breathe. Had his descendants been enslaved too? Or… there had to be another possibility, but his brain refused to think of it.

He started to wonder what the purpose of them time traveling was. Were they going to warn them about something that would drastically change the course of the future? If so, how safe was it to keep talking to them? Mituna knew what a doomed timeline was, and it wasn't any better than his worst daymare.

He lowered himself to the ground like an old, sick man.

"Why are you here?" He asked the only kid who was willing to talk.

"Well…" he started.

He began explaining that they went to gather parts from a defunct drone with one of their friends. Other than not knowing what a drone was, Mituna thought that sounded normal enough. As his story continued though, it turned into a fever dream. They went in a closet; there was a mysterious chest; they woke up and the library had changed; they couldn't find their friend; they got chased by Bessie, the mothergrub, who they thought was a monster; Dolorosa saved them; she made them come into her hive; she forced them to drink tea; and it took a long time for her to convince them that they weren't dead. All of that was one sentence. Mituna leaned forward as he pictured these insane events.

When the kid was done, he took a deep breath.

Although some of Mituna's questions were answered, many were not, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to overwhelm him by asking them. Ultimately, he took DL's advice and saved them for later.

Kankri, who had been quietly standing in the corner, bent down. "So do you know what happens to us in the future..?"

"I don't even know who you are," his descendant admitted without shame.

"Signless..."

"And I'm Mituna." He extended his right palm, and the kid shook it weird yet innocently with his left hand.

"Karkat," he said, then pointed at the mute troll with his thumb. "That's Captor."

"Captor is just the name of the sign on his," Mituna pointed to the strange garb on his upper body, which didn't look like clothes from any of the Alternian cultures he knew. "Fabric armor," he said, not sure that it would qualify as a shirt.

"I doubt Signless is a real name either," he retorted, and suddenly Mituna realized he was protecting his friend's identity.

Dolorosa, the last person still standing, cleared her throat. "Now that you're all acquainted, I wanted to ask you something. These boys need to get back to their friends, so, Mituna, I remembered that one girl…"

"Damara?" He asked in surprise.

"Is that her name?" She said caustically.

Kankri interrupted, "If you want him to contact her, it'll have to wait til tomorrow. The sun was coming up as we were coming in."

Karkat's eyes darted between the trio in confusion, and Captor took a sip of his icey tea, gazing over the rim of his cup.

"I guess that means you two should be in bed, huh?" Dolorosa put a hand on her hip.

"We don't usually sleep, especially him." Karkat gestured to Captor like his unofficial spokestroll.

"Why ever not? Don't tell me they get rid of it in the future," she tsked. "I'm ordering you to get some rest. Baby, you'll be sleeping in here today so they can have your room."

Kankri looked up in betrayal. "Why me?"

"Did I raise you to treat hiveguests like second class citizens?" One of her eyebrows arched upwards.

No sooner had a shiver ran down his spine than he jumped up obediently. "I'll move my stuff," he said before scrambling out the block.

That left four of them in the room until Dolorosa hummed for the boys to follow her. Karkat stood up before Captor, which didn't surprise Mituna, but it made him wonder what was wrong again. Was the kid just nervous or did he disappoint him? His pan replayed the way he rolled his eyes and found his tea more interesting than the entire conversation. It bugged him that they hadn't exchanged a single word despite the deep spiritual connection he thought should be there.

When they left, he gave the bag that he had taken to the sermon a pensive look.

He stood up, walked to his block, closed the portière, and threw it on his respite sack. Ripples ran through the lumpy mass after it landed. He sat on it and opened the bag in which lay a large bottle of sopor that he'd stolen from the highbloods. It'd been 4 years since he last tried this stuff, but the bitter taste was still fresh in his memory. Not because it was good--it tasted like dog shit--but because after he drank it, he forgot what happened before it, and he remembered liking that feeling.

Although he'd been planning to take a shot of it since the sermon, he squeezed it in his hand, unable to imagine forgetting tonight. His descendants. Time travel. It was so insane that he could find out this was all a dream tomorrow and still never forget it.

As he read the label, bittersweet memories of his childhood flooded back.

He remembered the one time he'd been allowed to sleep in a highblood's bed, which was so much different from a respite sack. They called them recuperacoons, and they were basically ablution traps full of sopor. He wished there was enough sopor in the bottle to pour on his body and go to sleep, but that would make it a one-time use thing. If he divvied this up right, he could get eight nights worth of blissful amnesia, maybe more…

Suddenly he wondered why his brain was thinking about that if he knew he wasn't going to drink from the stupid bottle tonight. Did he want to?

Maybe.

No, he didn't.

There was too much at risk, and like he said, forgetting tonight would be impossible. With his friends and descendants counting on him to find Damara tomorrow, he tucked the unopened bottle in his respite sack. As the name implied, it was a type of sack stuffed with leaves, twigs, and other things most trolls found comfortable.

Most trolls except Mituna.

Holding his head in his hand, he laid down on the stone floor and pulled the heavy pallet on top of him like a blanket.

His thoughts wandered back to his descendant, and he lied awake, wondering how to make him like him.

Alternian to English glossary

*jahtee: Before Alternia had a caste system, trolls tended to live in groups based on blood color. A group of trolls of the same blood color became called a jahtee. Now jahtee and caste are synonyms, but many lowbloods prefer jahtee for its nicer connotation

*Catrak: a glowing mushroom once cultivated by jadebloods

Chapter Text

As Not-Maryam led them through the garden, Karkat's eyes shifted toward Captor over and over again. He hadn't said a word since the woman had urged them inside, saying it would be dangerous if other brooding servants saw them. He was still walking like a normal troll, and his face was a healthy shade of grey. Hell, he even acted like himself despite the mutism: rolling his eyes, giving a thumbs up or thumbs down in response to interrogations, zapping Karkat with his psii when he called him a "frustratingly cryptic nookwriggler".

It just didn't make sense. Being his best friend, Karkat had seen his share of "Captor moments", where he responded to messages with the bare minimum that was necessary at the crack of dawn. He'd never seen him go silent though. A tingle skittered down his nerve column, then he bumped into the adult's back.

"Sorry," he said, jumping off of her.

"Worry not. Alright it is quite."

…Yeah. Though he'd gotten more used to her speech pattern, it still took him a minute to map out her backwards sentences. Nodding, thankful she didn't criticize him like she should have, he leaned sideways to see a long red curtain covering the wall.

She swept it aside to reveal a block about the size and shape of bunker. Tiny stalactites dripped from the ceiling, but the water was caught in a tarp that sloped toward a stone barrel. It hung above some unusual furniture: sickles scattered across the floor, piles of cloaks, and a body sized bag in the corner. Karkat froze, and Dolorosa bumped him as she squeezed through the doorway.

"Dirty it is not usually…"

It wasn't dirtier than any of his friend's hives, Karkat thought. Bacterial lifeforms had created a civilization in Captor's thermal hull. When he tried to look at her to tell her it was okay, she had already bent down to gather the weapons in her hands. Instead of picking the clothes up too, she furrowed her brows and pushed those out of her way.

"The respite sack I am sorry you will have to share," she said sadly before sliding the body bag to the center of the room. Lengthwise, it reached from one wall to the other, which said more about how cramped the block was rather than how big the cushion was. In fact, if Captor flopped on it, he would cover the whole thing. Karkat examined the pink stuff sticking out from the 'respite sack' before he realized something.

It was meant to be slept on.

As if a squeak beast scurried down his nerve column, and he jumped at the idea of what this implied. His friend seethed through his teeth, overcome with cringe. Hoping Captor would object to this, Karkat turned to him for help, forgetting that he was going through a temporary lapse in conversational skills. He stared at him dumbly until Dolorosa sliced between them like a knife.

"Anything else will you boys be needing?"

He had tried to scrape his voice together, but the first noise it made was a pitchy croak. Having culled his dignity like a blithering idiot, he face-palmed. "N-no," he stuttered after six seconds of butchered protests.

Dolorosa clapped her hands, happy she had accommodated them. After she left them alone together, Captor snickered and flashed him a shit-eating grin.

"Why didn't you say anything!?" Karkat yelled.

"I thought you had it under control," he said, "but yikes."

It surprised Karkat that all of a sudden he could speak, but his feet remained firmly planted on the ground, and his arms straightened against his sides.

"Was not talking for three straight hours part of some master plan to make my life even more of a constant, effervescent shitshow?" He asked. "Getting used to these ancient fuck's sentence-word-order felt like torture, and it was made especially egregious by the fact that the one person who can talk normally—that's you—practically abandoned me!"

For a moment, Captor stammered as if he was going to apologize.

"I have very important things to worry about, so sue me for not chatting it up with total strangers or tending to your lifelong melodrama," he said.

Karkat's heart sank like a rock, then he threw his hand on his quickly rising chest.

"Important things?"

"Thinking of how to get us out of here."

"Dolorosa said she can help us."

"That was so bullshit I'm surprised flies didn't land on her tongue."

"Why do you think that?"

"KK, if someone from the past could build a time machine, dontcha think time travel would be an ordinary part of our lives?"

His breath caught on Captor's rhetorical question, then ran back into his air sacks like an animal that had been batted away. The thought that Dolorosa wouldn't be able to help never occurred to him, and it started to embed its claws in his pan. As the other troll walked to the corner of the room, Karkat considered the possibility Dolorosa hadn't meant she would 'build a time machine' in order to help them. After all, there seemed to be other, more magical ways of time traveling like opening certain chests. Yeah, he thought, she must have been speaking the truth because she wouldn't need to an invent anything that hadn't already been invented.

He was going to shove that logic nugget in Captor's face until he looked at him. The quiet troll, who had an unremitting scowl, was standing over a heap of laundry, folding a woven red blanket in half twice.

"If anyone in this Godforesaken era is going to get us back to the future, it's me," he growled.

Karkat bristled. He should have told his friend to calm down. Too scared such an extremely stupid phrase would only make him angrier, he stepped back. Captor threw his folded blanket next to the respite sack with a huff.

Starting to get curious, Karkat didn't take his eyes off the strange new decor. An awkward silence settled in the room as their energy to argue with each other ebbed away into regret. He licked his lips, but they still felt dry and chapped when he asked, "What are you doing?"

He explained he was "making two pads". Right afterwards, he threw another folded towel on the floor and kicked it into the position he wanted with his foot. The blankets were parallel from each other, separated by a line of stone flooring, but the respite sack bridged them together, creating a blocky U-shape. As Karkat turned his head to look at the structure from different angles, he realized that the respite sack would be their pillow, and it all made perfect sense.

Captor was the first to lay down, and he followed. He didn't say anything about how uncomfortable the thin layer between him and the floor was, thankful Captor had at least tried to make things less awkward. After rolling on his side, he stared at the wall, almost sad it seemed so… empty.

"Good night," he called out.

He heard a rustling of fabric, then Captor mumbled "Good night, KK." There was something in his voice he had never heard before: sleepiness.

The mutant's eyes popped, and part of him wanted to turn around to see if the insomniac was playing with him. Too nervous, he curled up in a ball and pulled half of his makeshift pad on top of him like a snuggle plane. When he dug his head into the pillow, it sounded like a flightbeast thrashing against a tree canopy, so he jumped. This wasn't filled with sopor..? He thought, then tried to fluff up the weird, uneven thing.

He failed, and his head flopped back on the sack with a dull thud and a wince.

It crossed his mind that sleeping would be crucial to waking up refreshed and ready for adventure in the evening, but so did a million other thoughts. Instead of counting sheep, he looked restlessly at the flimsy tarp clinging to a pool of water above him. A lump caught in his throat, and he tried to suck it back down with a struggle.

After minutes turned into hours, the quiet ticks of the cave faded away, and he blacked out into a dreamless slumber.

…

…

…

A thud thundered through the walls, and his back lurched off the ground. His eyes surged open as a sharp pain shot through his posture pole, then he stared at the swaying tarp over his head, slowly settling down.

His head spun only to see that Captor was still buried in his snuggle plane, sleeping like a half-witted wriggler.

He hesitated, then reached his hand toward him. The tips of his fingers hovered above his friend's burning forehead. Were goldbloods normally this hot? He wondered, then remembered Megido had once said psions could get hotter than typical lowbloods. Something about fast moving electrons and friction. It had been incomprehensible jargon, but *this* much heat seemed excessive.

"Hey," Karkat snapped his fingers. "Wake up. Did you hear that?"

A groan came from the den of blankets, and Captor rolled to the side that faced away from him. "Lea... me lone…." he mumbled.

"What the hell was it?"

"A sound, idiot," he answered plain and simply.

Karkat flicked his blanket off his legs and stalked toward the red curtain that walled off their block. Outside, leaves whispered restlessly, and an ever-present *drip, drop* plopped on the ground. He raised his hand toward the curtain, shivering, until another curtain loudly swung open, making him stumble backwards.

He tripped over Captor, bent down, grabbed him by the face, and half-screeched, "I think someone's here."

Captor weeviled his head up and squinted at the door without his glasses, which had to be thrown away last night. An unassuming buzz emanated from him, and he started to thread psionic energy around his fingers. They huddled together, then a piercing voice struck through the wall.

"Mom, Mituna left!"

They flushed, knowing who the voice belonged to, and untangled their limbs. After putting a hand on his bloated chest, Captor laid back down. Karkat jostled his shoulder, but he batted him away like a meowbeast instead of getting up. The young troll didn't have the faintest idea how he could sleep after hearing that news, so he quietly scrambled to his feet.

On the other side of the hive, another curtain was pushed away, preceding Dolorosa's voice. "Damara he must have gone to Death Point to get."

"Dusk it is barely! The sun he should be more careful about."

"Fine I am sure he is–"

"Him I have to go get or danger he could be in."

As Karkat stepped out of his block, hearing part of their conversation, his eyes swam around the tall bushes overhanging the path. Then he saw them across the room, standing in front of green drapes, partly obscured by a tangle of vines. They didn't notice him start to creep toward them nor hear his shakey breaths. Why the hell had Captor's ancestor left? What was going on? Blood rushed past his ears, flooding his stream of consciousness with burning questions.

If he hadn't stopped paying attention, he probably wouldn't have been shocked by the sudden shift in Dolorosa's voice. Instead, it made his bloodpusher freeze.

"Last night did something happen that I should know about?" She said in a low, surly tone like a Commander of a Threshecutioner division. As she leaned over his ancestor, her eyes narrowed so threateningly that even the nearby plants retreated under cover.

Signless looked directly in her eyes.

"No. Everything went fine, Mother."

"Lying what have I told you about?"

Karkat's skin turned from ash grey to white even though he still hadn't been noticed. He didn't think he wanted to reveal himself anymore. Not with ten foot tall adults sounding like they were about to go at it.

He slunk behind some bushes and slumped his shoulders forward to make himself small as their argument continued.

"Go to Death Point to check on Mituna. Back when you get, everything you are hiding from me I want to know about."

"Yes ma'am."

Karkat's eyes grew wide while watching his ancestor turn away from the bigger troll. After kicking his boots off the ground, he raced past the bushes that he was hiding in, carelessly brushing his side against them. The leaves rattled like maracas. Some even flew into Karkat's mouth, so he stood up to spit them out. As he coughed the bitter dry foliage up, something heavy scraped along the stone floor. He turned and caught the last second that his ancestor was still in the hive, hanging from the ledge of an open square hole, before he pull upped into the library.

What the…?

"Karkat!" Dolorosa squeaked, standing outside the door by her respite block.

Compromised, he trudged out of the bushes, flushing unrulily, and languished on the path. Dolorosa beelined forward to close the gap between them while Karkat eyed her like an antler-beast.

"What's Death Point?" His voice was weak. There was no doubting it was a terrible, terrible place.

"A mountain," she answered.

First came relief. It wasn't a slaughterhouse. Even though that thought was ridiculously hysterical, Karkat was so glad that his bloodpusher slowed down somewhat. Then a little bit of his calmness melted away since Mituna had still left at the crack of dusk. A lot more liquesced when Dolorosa knit her brows, looking up at something behind him.

Karkat twisted around to realize that there was still a gaping hole in the ceiling, letting in light from the library. His ancestor was a goddamn idiot. Exposing your secret hide-outs even for a second was akin to throwing a rock at a drone and professing that you had a grotesque blood mutation. He bolted toward it and jumped up to pull the half-open slab back into place, but he couldn't get high enough. They were all going to die.

Dolorosa walked next to him and reached her hand up to fix the problem without ever leaving the ground. She had barely glanced up at the slab as it grinded along the floor as loud as a drone busting through a wall. Her eyes pointed downward, and a deeply unsettling feeling swirled inside Karkat's acid sack.

"What's wrong?" He asked beside himself.

"Nothing," she froze.

"It's not 'nothing'. Should we follow after them?"

A startled expression transformed into a considering look as she stared at the boy, then ruffled her hand through his hair. Dark circles under her eyes glistened with the slightest hint of fluid. Never having imagined an adult could look worried, Karkat knotted his fingers together, heart beat rising…

"A wardrobe I will have to get you better looking."

His eyes dropped to his sweater half-offendedly, then he realized what she meant; their styles looked nothing alike. Not only was she wearing long robes and a day gown, but also they were complex and colorful in a way he didn't know clothes could be. His own clothes were the complete opposite: black, simple, practical, and they boldly displayed his sign in ordinance with military law. It would immediately be obvious that he didn't belong here unless he changed into something else.

As he was about to ask what to wear, a small sound came from the other side of the indoor jungle. On the path in front of his ancestor's respite block, Captor kicked a stone to get someone's attention. Jumping back in shock, Karkat yelled.

"How long have you been standing there?"

He just peered at him until it became obvious there would never be an answer.

"Whatever." Karkat rolled his eyes before turning back to Not-Maryam. "So do you have anything old we can fit into? And preferably grey?"

"What I have I will see."

Great. Karkat looked to his left, and Captor had moved next to him like a meowbeast that needed a bell put on its collar. Good Lord. He grit his teeth in the vain hope the psion would stop being an all around creepshow, but he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he played with his fingers as if he was mentally projecting a videogame controller.

"Follow me." Dolorosa pushed aside the fabric hanging from her door.

Then they followed her into a room the same size as Signless's. For some reason, the walls seemed taller. Maybe it was the intricate stripes and triangles on the weavings that hung all around, or the fact that her furniture was better organized. Her neatly made respite sack popped out from the backmost wall like an eye-catching decoration. When she stepped inside, she looked up at her engraved stone shelves, which boasted a brickwork of chests. None were green and red–just oak, birch, and mahogany–but Karkat's eyes flashed across them in case he would find the one with magical powers.

She carefully slid a dark wooden chest down and opened it on her floor. Looking over her shoulder, Karkat saw jade fabrics, and his lips started to tremble.

"Try this on," she said, handing him an outfit.

"I'll get culled in an instant," he swallowed dryly.

Dolorosa cocked her head, "That why do you think, darling?"

"Jade–Jade isn't my color."

"Around here wearing green is quite normal, no matter what blood you have."

He stared back at the outfit, not believing that in the slightest.

"Does my ancestor have any old clothes?" He asked while giving it back to her, still neatly folded.

"His old clothes these are."

Oh God, wait, what?

Of course it made sense; he was a mutant. He just hadn't known his ancestor was normal. All this time, he had blamed his progenitor for giving him the worst genes known to trollkind, thinking it had been a twisted little joke. Some freak sneaking his genetic material into the 'great slurry'. It turned out he was the only mistake, an anomalous respirating creature whose sole purpose was to be tormented and die.

"Sorry I am, but the only thing that fits you it is." She placed the clothes back in his hands despite his reluctance. "Something else I will sew for you when we come back. Alright is that, dear?" She had bent down to be eye-level with him, but since he was looking away, her plan fell flat on its face.

"Whatever. It's fine. Which one can Captor wear?"

"Oh, for him these are all too small. In Signless's room he and I will have to look for clothes."

Karkat snapped around while steam shot through his snort barrels. It was no fair–he glared at his taller friend who had the *fucking* audacity to smirk.

"Why wouldn't you suggest Mituna's clothes instead?"

"Because old clothes of his I do not have."

Captor snickered. Karkat flipped his friend off, and Dolorosa blinked as if she didn't recognize the gesture.

"By yourself will you be able to get dressed?"

His face turned the brightest shade of red known to trollanity. "Y-yes," he stuttered. What a patronizing question.

As the others left the room to give him privacy, Karkat let out a frustrated sigh that became flippant bickering. Sure, Captor was the exact same height as his ancestor, if not an inch taller, but that didn't mean he was entitled to his clothes. If the short troll was a highblood, he would probably go on and on about how this felt like cultural appropriation. Nevermind the fact grey was the most neutral, unassuming color. Wait–maybe Dolorosa would give him something jade too. There was no guarantee Captor would be given a similar outfit to the one Signless had on last night and this evening… right?

He tried to envision a world where the universe let him be right. A small smile poked at his lips, and he started to unfold his jade clothes. Out fell a black shirt that had been wrapped up in them, so he bent down to pick it up. As he examined it, it dawned on him that it was smaller than a regular shirt, and, in fact, might not have been a shirt at all. Still, the shape wouldn't make sense on any other part of his body? So he rolled his sweater over his shoulders to replace it.

Next, he yanked the black shirt over his head and shimmied so the tight fabric could be pulled down. Like some kind of cropped tank top, it didn't extend far enough to cover the waistband of his pants, which his sweater had always done. He screwed his eyes at the sickly pale line of skin on his abdomen and reached for the jade fabric. After grabbing a handful of it, he tied it around his exposed navel. The heavy fabric fell around his waist like a skirt before he shake-nudge-pulled his pants off without ever uncovering his bulge. He kept his underwear on too because fuck whatever perverts were spying on him from beyond his dimension.

There was enough leftover fabric to wrap around his lower extremities six more times, so he did that, then looked for a pin to hold his work in place. As his eyes scanned along the floor, he bit his lip.

Nothing?

Surely ancient people didn't walk around clutching their clothes so they would stay on. The only possibility was that he had gone wrong somewhere.

But how?

His acid sak churned as he pictured walking out and asking for help with what was supposed to be a manageable task for wrigglers. An enervated groan rolled past his lips as his head shuddered. Then he got it. He made a knot next to his hip that clamped the skirt together and inspected it proudly.

As he stepped away from the ankle bracelets of his trousers, something dropped on the floor. He looked down and blinked at his palmhusk, half-sticking out of his pocket.

Obviously, he knew the device would be useless since telecom hadn't been invented yet. Nothing more than a glowing brick, like that time it stormed so hard around his hive that his wifi went out. God that had been a miserable three nights–

He paused and quickly picked up his palmhusk to check something.

After typing in his pincode, he skipped past 3 pages of apps and went straight to 'Notes'. He was able to open a blank document, in which a little white bar blinked patiently.

That gave him the perfect idea; since the mute troll wouldn't talk around anyone except him, maybe he would type. Karkat wrote the perfect card for him…

GOOD NEWS, CAPTOR.
I DON'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOUR WRIGGLISH BULLSHIT ANYMORE.
YOU ARE GOING TO USE THOSE BIG SMARTY PANTS WORDS IN YOUR SPONGE, AND YOU ARE GOING TO LIKE IT.
GOT THAT?|

A triumphant smile spread across his face, then he flicked the screen off before marching out of Dolorosa's respite block.

The woman was folding her hands while waiting beneath the trapdoor. Captor stood next to her, already dressed in his awkward uniform. Grey fabric draped over his eyes and trailed around his frame. Underneath it, black pants with a red line hugged his legs, exaggerating how ridiculously tall he was. Karkat almost scoffed before he glowered at the excess of torn up material billowing behind his shoulders like some kind of rogue's cape. The only saving grace in that travesty of an outfit was the fact that he had swapped his dumb mismatched shoes for boots. And the red streak running through them complemented him in a ruggish, dystopian way, harking back to a character from a scandalous action novel.

He froze, blushing. As his mouth fell open, Dolorosa ran up to him like an overstrung lusus.

"All wrong you're wearing that," she said. "Pinch here."

He was too distracted by Captor to carry out her orders quickly enough, so she did it herself, pinching his skirt. Part of it stayed in place while she wrapped the rest around his body by surprise.

"This goes here and that goes there," she mumbled. If the boy closed his eyes, he would've swore she was racing to turn him into a mummy. "Normal hiding your horns is not, but a secret your ancestors must remain."

That was the last thing she said before dunking a hood over his horns like Captor.

Taking a step back, Dolorosa assessed him again, much calmer.

"Amazing… the resemblance..."

His eyes would have rolled to the back of his head if he didn't have good restraint. *Obviously* he looked like his stupid ancestor. Then he scratched at his neck, thinking all this weight felt like overkill given the warm winters of Alternia.

"Boots here are some. Is everyone ready to go?" She clapped her hands together and spun toward the door.

"Yes, ma'am."

Captor nodded.

Remembering his plan right before she opened the hatch, Karkat whipped his palmhusk out and passed it to his friend.

The mute lifted his head up with his mouth open. His eyes were partly hidden behind a wooden visor, but judging by the way muscles jumped around his cheeks, they were obviously expanding. What the hell was the thing on his face? It had slots like a comb so he could see through it, which made him think 'armor'.

If there was time, he would've asked, but Dolorosa had already begun to climb into the library.

'Read it,' he whispered hurriedly.

Captor either read it, then put it in his pocket, or just put it in his pocket. Karkat couldn't pay attention because he was too busy squeezing his eyes shut, clenching the ledge of the second floor in an attempt to do a pull-up. After turning around, Dolorosa grabbed his hands and hauled him up even though he clearly didn't need help.

"A ladder there is usually, but…" She looked down at the psionic troll as he buoyed himself up. His movements seemed effortless thanks to a red and blue nebula floating around him. Jealousy swept across Karkat's face as he landed on the ground without anyone trying to assist him. Cold, bitter, untraceable jealousy.

"This way," Dolorosa called, somehow having moved to the exit.

Karkat bit his chewy blither-frond in irritation and followed her. The moment they stepped into the dark side of the cave, light diffused from her skin (a rare yet not-unheard-of mutation). The psion stumbled when he realized his powers weren't needed, which was a first.

The cavern loomed around them, much longer now that they were trekking through it, and curious in the way that it played with their senses. It was loud, quiet, humid, and cool, all at once. Dolorosa's stark white glow, combined with clusters of mushrooms, hit every inch of the path with light, though the air remained black. After they squeezed through a tunnel, the path inclined sharply.

Karkat checked over his shoulder to see if Captor was typing his response yet, but was disappointed. Now would have been the perfect time to work on it. There was nothing to trip on and not a soul around who didn't already know they were from the future. His commitment to silence worried Karkat more than it irritated him. Seeing Captor ignore his attempts to make social contact outside of situations where they were alone implied his brain had performed one of its polar shifts. It was only a matter of time before his neurological mutation left him paralyzed with nihilism and gloom.

Chewing his blither-frond again, Karkat stared at him until the other shifted his eyes, crossed his arms, and walked faster. He jolted. Well excuse him for being concerned?

Before he could get anything off his chest, the path terminated at a gusty hole. Dolorosa, her chin nuzzled into her overcoat, stepped on some white stuff outside that instantly swallowed her foot.

"Come on," she directed, so Karkat tapped his boot against the stuff cautiously. As if he had lowered it in a pool of ice water, it started to feel cold and wet. Ewugh. As much as he winced in disgust, it seemed harmless, so he trotted behind Dolorosa who was making her way to a village.

The village that wouldn't be here in 200 sweeps. Before he, Megido, and Captor arrived at the cave's mouth, they had passed this nameless valley. It was drier than a desert, and not a single trace of civilization survived. Seeing wood hives loom next to living trees filled Karkat with a morbid sense of curiosity: what had gone wrong? Then an eerie wind howled through the otherwise silent, empty village. Given the eastern position of the moons, it wasn't unreasonable to assume everyone was just asleep--not that that made the tingle on his neck feel any less creepy.

Past the houses, two white-topped mountains forged into the dark green sky. The right side was a smidge taller than the other, though a fall from either one looked like more than enough to kill a troll.

"Do we have to climb all the way up to find Mituna?"

"No," Dolorosa's eyes honed in on the right peak, "Judging by my calculations, in a moment we shall see him."

Karkat arched an eyebrow up and glanced at Captor, who shrugged.

Following the assured troll's example, they brought their attention toward the distant peak. Seconds ticked by in silence. Nothing happened. Not even a flightbeast soared through the sky. His boots remained in the wet stuff long enough for ice water to seep through, but he forced himself to remain stiff.

As nothing persisted in happening, confusion kicked in. Even if Mituna was there, wouldn't he seem so tiny that they couldn't see him? After thinking to himself, a bolt of lightning from the mountain struck the sky instead of the other way around. It turned into a super charged, bi-colored funnel, and streams of energy particles rocketed all around it that were as clear as shooting stars. After the beam reached the heavens, it lasted 2 more seconds before fading completely.

Finally, a thunderous crack ripped through Karkat's ear drums. Dolorosa, her lips spreading into a smile, turned to the boys as if she'd seen a moonrise instead.

"Now Mituna and Kankri should find us any minute. Breakfast would you like?"

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

With hardly a minute to process what happened, they were led to an inorganic hive standing on massive support poles. It was oak instead of hardened black tissue, and the roof was triangular instead of flat. It seemed to have only one sector and one balcony, though normally hives grew much bigger.

As Karkat judged the architecture, Dolorosa led them up the stairs to the first (second?) floor. From the outside, he had seen no clues about what this place was, so he was completely flabberghasted when she opened the door.

A bell chimed. The smell of blood and flesh punished all 6 of his senses. Meat sacks dangled from the ceiling behind a counter. A smiling oliveblood waved.

Leijon?

"Good morning, DL!" she shouted while tying roasted mutton to a rope behind the counter. "Your new friends are who?"

Dolorosa lifted her finger as if she was about to answer, but Captor tugged her sleeve down in an instant.

She looked at him, then back at Leijon. A whispery strain affected her voice as she leaned forward, "Very good homes they are not from… Helping them escape I am. For their safety I cannot impart any more information."

Not-Leijon seemed to nod understandingly. Captor let out a sigh of relief and walked toward the only table in the room. Karkat followed him with his eyes as Dolorosa strode toward the counter.

Whether this was normal or avoidant behaviour, it continued to worry Karkat. The isolation of the empty table definitely wasn't going to help his mental state, so he approached him as one would approach skittish-beast. He raised his hand, but retracted his fingers when he stopped being stupid. A surge of confused pity washed over Karkat as he watched him sit there, chin propped in his hand pensively. As usual, he did nothing to act on these disconcerting feelings of pity, except sit next to him.

Then he tried to strike up a conversation.

"Do you think that's Leijon's ancestor?"

Captor nodded.

"I didn't catch that. Can you write it on the palmhusk I gave you?"

He shook his head.

Karkat barely surpressed a seething noise. "What's your deal? Why won't you talk if--God forbid--there's more than one person in a room?"

Captor huffed and started walking to the door.

"I meant that as a genuine, non-judgemental question!" Karkat called, but he yanked the paneled swinging device open anyway.

"On what is going?" Dolorosa boomed, turning around from the counter. Not-Leijon leaned over it, equally concerned.

"...He just needs some fresh air." He could use it.

"Outside he should not be–" the old woman protested.

"I'll ask him to come back," Karkat said before running onto the frozen balcony too. As he slammed the door on her loud cries, his head spun in search of Captor. That boy had too much pent-up emotional turmoil for his own good, and who knew where–

He saw him leaning against a wall as casually as if he was taking a smoke break.

When Captor noticed him, he let a quiet puff of air into the sky. "Listen–"

"No, you listen! You wanna complain about my life being a melodrama, but you are the most melodramatic fuckpod on the face of the planet. All I ask is that you communicate with me while we try to navigate this shitty situation together," Karkat blew up in his face. "The least you could do is tell me why you won't use my palmhusk!"

Captor had pushed himself as far into the wall as possible, eyes going wide beneath that visor. From the way his tiny muscles retracted, Karkat guessed there were jitters running through his body. There was also a flush of color rising to his cheeks, which had never happened before in all the years Karkat had said something stupid to him. Fuck–they had always been the kind of friends who poked fun at each other, called each other names. Neither of them ever took it seriously. And this was dull compared to some of the barbs they hurled in the middle of a Cull of Duty match. He clenched his lips when the other failed to respond.

Sollux started slow and awkwardly, "If someone saw your palmhusk, it would fuck the timeline up two-fold. And who knows how much we're already fucking it up by talking to our ancestors?"

He hated to admit that everything became clear after that explanation. Captor had always said he had mild precognizance. He got a migraine when someone nearby was about to die. At first, it sounded like bullshit, but Karkat never doubted him after the time he predicted the guy in the hive below him would bite the dust. The next day, helm raiders tried to steal him, and he blew up his apartment. If he had a bad feeling about something, it was best to heed his advice.

That said…

"We can't undo the fact that our ancestors know where we're from."

…it was imperative that Captor stopped shelling himself off.

"So? Doesn't mean we have to wave our tech in their faces. God, can you imagine what the War of Merciless Conquest would be like with palmhusks?" He laughed.

"Point taken, but give me one reason you can't just talk."

"Yeah. I'll talk. While I'm at it, why don't I admit I've already destroyed the future??" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"It isn't like that…"

"It is."

Now it was Karkat's turn to jerk away, disquieted. “But we... But I--” He felt so dumb for not being able to get the words out. In movies, this was the moment where the main love interest screamed 'I need you.' In real life, this was the moment where the door swung open, and they both turned their heads.

Mituna, Signless, Dolorosa, and a stranger squeezed out of the butcher shop as if they were clambering out of a circus car. They were so tangled that Karkat couldn't tell who shouted what, but he got the sense they were all concerned.

"For so long, why have you been out here?"

"Back in, mom thought you were coming."

"Watch the tits–Hey, I see DL got you new clothes."

"How did you…" Karkat's voice was still a little shakey. "How did you come out from there?"

The stranger, who must've been Megido's ancestor, pushed the taller adults out of her way. She grinned devilishly before remarking, "Teleportation."

"Back in, we should go before we discuss matters further." Dolorosa pulled her away by the collar of her dress. Then she extended her palms toward Karkat and Captor. "Come on, out here, you will freeze."

When they placed their hands on hers, they hadn't been expecting her to literally sweep them off their feet and put them down inside.

"Teleportation," Karkat repeated. "How the fuck is that possible?"

In the corner of his eye, his ancestor squirmed, but stopped when a bi-colored glow emanated from his cloak.

"Oh it is not." The fake Megido stroked his cheek as she walked away from the crowded door. "But I can do lots of impossible things."

As she strode toward the same table Captor was at, Karkat noticed that the other girl was missing.

"Where's the," he waved his hand while following her, "Leijon lady?"

Signless piped up from behind him. "In the back, she is. A moonhowler, she is cutting up."

"We have about 6 minutes," Mituna translated.

"You say that like you are not used to doing things quickly." The woman commented as she sat down.

It had just occurred to him they were speaking modern Alternian somehow. Confused and scared, he bristled when the strange troll leered at him and Captor.

"Tell me, children. Do you remember what color the chest was?"

"Green and red," he answered nervously.

"Ah. Sorry. I can not help you."

"You can still help us with other stuff," Mituna growled, but his irritation paled in comparison to Dolorosa's.

"Back to the future, why cannot you bring them?" The table reverberated when she slammed her hands on it.

"Because the thing that sent them here is a 'juju'," She crossed her arms.

"Nothing that answers!"

As the adults argued, Karkat shared a look of hopeless confusion with his friend.

Disappointed by their ignorance, the witch curtly began to explain her dilemma. "The juju wanted them here, and when you go against what a juju wants, you doom the timeline in the worst way possible."

"Why did it want us here?" Karkat asked.

"How should I know?" She didn't roll her eyes; she just leered at them more bluntly. "Maybe you have a duty to fulfill."

"So we're meant to be here?"

"Yes."

He gave a hopeful lurch as something inside him washed away. Them being here wasn't a cosmic mistake that guaranteed the deaths of everyone in the universe. For a moment, it seemed as though Captor would break his vow of silence, lips quivering in bewilderment. After a moment or two, he tightened them up.

Karkat sighed in disappointment, then voiced his own questions again. "How do we get home?"

"Magic. Or re-find the juju."

He, Captor, and Dolorosa had already tried to look for it last night. It was gone, and she had no recollection of ever acquiring a chest--let alone putting a non-work related item in her 'utility' closet.

Before he could speak up, Dolorosa glared at the older Megido. "To get back, what other ways are there?"

"I do not know. I have never needed an alternative."

"DM stop being a cunt and–"

"Mituna, not could you?" Signless said frustratedly.

"Not I could," he mocked. "I told you to speak Imperial Alternian, so I am going to pretend I did not hear that."

Signless seemed to boil from being dismissed. The other adults leaned over the table to intimidate DM–Damara–but she folded her hands with composure.

"I have answered these children's questions as requested."

"They have more." Dolorosa looked at her challengingly.

Karkat felt a tremendous weight on his back to ask something else. Quickly. Something important. Something where the answer wouldn't be just "I don't know." Walls began to close off where he was sitting, sandwiched between the fuming adults. Before he could so much as stutter, Damara gave a judgemental 'hmph'.

She snapped her fingers and disappeared. At first, it seemed like a practical joke, a crappy edit it in a low budget movie, a–the point was, it didn't seem real. Karkat ducked his head under the table, then shot it around the block, only to realize he had been dealing with a non-Alternian creature. The cruel hand of God reached in and twisted his acid sak worse than when he had thought he was going to be eaten by a monster and worse than when he had seen his first adult. Wondering where the hell it had come from, he nearly forgot that it was Megido's ancestor.

4 sets of eyes bore through his neck, so he popped against the back of his seat and yelled, "Don't look at me! Captor can speak too!"

As if a wave of disappointment washed over them, they casted looks at the floor instead.

The next few seconds were miserable in their quietness. Captor slunk back into his chair, biting his lip, and Signless propped his head in his hand, pacing from wall to wall. Karkat's eyes settled on the witch's seat like a tottering dust. And in the corner of his eye, Dolorosa rolled her sleeves up, then back down again. He would have counted how many times, but the world was so hazy that only a vague perception of motion remained. When Mituna got up out of his chair, shadows moved across Karkat's face.

"That bitch."

The words rang with venom.

"To her I am sorry I made you talk again," Dolorosa replied.

"It's fine. Your reasoning was logical."

"To get them back perhaps we will find another way."

Signless reared his head after walking around the table. "Back why do you even want to go?" He asked the boys.

"Do not start," Dolorosa threatened.

But the question had already scarred the inside of Karkat's pan. He would never admit it, but he never even thought about leaving his world behind. Paranoia had afflicted him since a young age. The specter of a culling drone loomed over his future. There were so many ways in which Alternia made him feel small, worthless, and upset. Even if he wasn't a revolting mutant, most trolls were taintchafing assholes that drove him mad. Most. His friends would be an exception, occasionally. And the past hadn't seemed entirely unpleasant so far, granted he had spent 90% of it in a cave.

Knowing it was horribly fucked up to choose between his friends and his own mortality, he looked at the ground. He saw boots. His ancestor's–no wait, Captor's.

Reminded of how the other had to get back to AA, he breathed in.

Of course he wanted to go home.

He barely registered the squeak of a door in the back until Not-Leijon stepped into frame.

"Your moonhowler here is." She handed a bookbag-sized package to Signless and eyed the empty chair at the table. Sighing, she asked, "Heading out will you folks be?"

"Yes. For…" Dolorosa stood up and slid her own chair in. "For the best I think that would be."

The store owner waved as they gathered their things, and the bell chimed again to say goodbye. After blinking to adjust to the dark sky, Karkat was taken aback by just how much had changed in the last 20 minutes. On the streets below the balcony, olivebloods bustled between different hives and kids his age swashed bamboo sticks at each other. From out of nowhere, a young oliveblood pepped up the steps to the butcher shop, almost knocking Mituna out of his way.

"Hey, watch it!" The adult laughed, but the noise hurt Karkat's ears more than it spread contagiously.

Tightening the cloak around his face, he trailed behind his ancestor who, strangely, seemed just as anxious to get home as him.