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A troll is hunched over in his hive. He grips his torso and gasps for air he should be breathing.
Your name is DAMMEK and you are being HUNTED.
You stay there, hunched over on your floor. Your hair is greasy and falls around your head. You're wearing nothing but boxers and a wifebeater. Someone or something wants you dead.
You continue to act like a fish out of water, as though all the oxygen in the room is gone. You grab at your shirt and pull, as though it were your hide. You gasp and shake as you are both acutely aware of and completely blind to everything around you.
You manage to crawl across the block to one of your heavy-duty doors. This one leads to your bunker.
You place your hand on the reader, and it blinks green, opening.
You stare down the stairs. You watch yourself fall down them and get shot by every single gun down there. You stand up and slam the door shut.
Whatever wants you dead is down there.
You run across your hive, feet bruising and scraping against the crap you have laying around. You throw yourself at a wall with a howl, falling to your side again. Your shades are nowhere to be found.
Every single face on your posters is glaring at you, their viewspheres boring into your soul. You whimper and curl up. They're still staring at you. They still want you dead.
You feel like you're bleeding out and you gasp for air again.
You trip over yourself trying to get up, and your antlers knock against the wall. You fear they'll crack off and hit you, but it's not even close to that time of sweep. They send shockwaves down your body and you try to shake it off.
You continue to stumble around the closing in walls, looking for safety as your ribs tear open your chest.
A young troll smooths a blanket across some loungeplanks, before flopping down to watch some tv.
Your name is XEFROS TRITOH, and you just got home from arena stickball practice!
You flip through the channels for a few minutes, trying to find something worth watching. A crash can be heard from upstairs. You sigh and go to see where your lusus has tried to sleep now.
As you make it up the stairs to your respite block, you find your lusus stuck in the sliding glass door. It looks like he was trying to sleep on the viewpad again.
You help him move outside. Something feels strange about the street today, but you can't place your finger on it.
You go back inside when you hear the familiar crackle of a walkie-talkie.
Your moirail had gotten them a few sweeps ago, so you could communicate off the grid, but the two of you tend to still use trollian because it's easier. You walk over to the sound of white noise, and pick it up.
You assume he left it somewhere and something else in his mess clicked the button, but you can hear faint raspy breathing.
You press the button down.
XEFROS: are you gonna say anything haha
DAMMEK:
XEFROS: um
XEFROS: dammek?
DAMMEK:
XEFROS: are you mad at me X:(
The walkie-talkie clicks off. You sigh and go to put it back, when it cracks on again.
DAMMEK: ...............end help...........
XEFROS: what
His voice gets louder, as though he had brought the microphone directly to his mouth.
DAMMEK: ...............end help...........
XEFROS: what
There's shuffling.
DAMMEK: (sometthing wantts me dead xeff)
XEFROS: i was just outside though i didnt see any drones i would have told you
DAMMEK: (no not) ffuck (nott drones itts. its sometthing quiett i dontt know who or whatt)
XEFROS: that doesnt make any sense dude you have insane security measures
DAMMEK: (ffuck i knew you wouldntt listten—)
And the signal shuts off again, for good this time.
You lie on the cold cement of the weapon room in your bunker. Your hide is in tatters somewhere. You managed to run down here, but you were shot. Now you're dying alone.
Your eyes focus and you snap your whole body around in one movement when you hear the sound of footsteps behind you.
Xefros stands at the doorway, panting like he ran a marathon. He looks at you with a cross between pity and frustration.
XEFROS: i thought you were being attacked?!
DAMMEK: SHUTT UP
DAMMEK: (youre being ttoo LOUD itt mightt HEAR YOU)
He looks at you and stammers a bit.
XEFROS: (i was worried!)
DAMMEK: (i never asked you tto worry)
XEFROS: (well you implied it)
You try to keep it together as you avoid eye contact. Hands come up from the floor and begin to grab at your thighs, cracking your chitin open. You gasp for air again. Your head thunks back against the wall as the ceiling collapses and he's mutilated in front of you.
Dammek begins crying. He looks confused and sick. He starts dry heaving and grabbing at his chest. He's sick. That's whats wrong. He's sick and he needs help. You calmly walk over to him and crouch down by his side, putting a hand on his shoulder. He instinctively leans into your touch, and seems to go still.
DAMMEK: gett me outt off here
You nod and help him to his feet. He struggles a bit for a few seconds, then puts a hand around your waist, holding you close.
The two of you exit his hive and walk over to yours. You promise him that nobody's watching him, and that he can't be seen inside your hive.
To make sure of this, you hang blankets over the windows and he deactivates the cameras in your hive. It takes a bit for him to calm down, but after letting him borrow some of your clothes and having some snacks and sodas, he seems less shaky.
The two of you go to your rumpus room and spend the rest of the night playing video games.
He seems more tethered to them than reality.