Chapter Text
I saw them from a far, when I was looking through some garbage.
Thought they were neat, thought they seemed neat.
Their bandana and their thick gloves.
Their hat and that tired gaze.
I thought.
Maybe we'd could talk.
Let's see, where do we start? Ah. Right. Cirava Hermod, a goldblood with a long history of anxiety and paranoia. And who could rightfully blame them? They were something- someone even, with a voice that could call out even the snarky little highbloods who cower in hives; who were too much of cowards to ever speak to them directly. People loved them, and then one day, they didn't. It was hard, getting through it all. To have everyone you thought would have your back for the unforeseeable future just turn on you like that? On a dime, without even acknowledging what you ever did for them or anything you ever talked about. Maybe that was for the best, what happened, if Cirava had known how many of their "friends" would give them up in a bloodpush well, they wouldn't have many friends to begin with. After The Incident they never really had any time to process it all, they'd usually get too high to even think, because when their head was empty and when they didn't have top think things were just better that way. There were no tears, no stifling of another pitiful sob session, no blurry vision from the welling of tears; instead just .. bliss. And not a lot did that for them, not a lot of things just let them... sit there and relax.
They've been alone for a sweep now, staying hidden in their hive, only going out when they needed to, to get supplies or more for their stash of narcotics. Running their moisturewave channel with indifference, at the end of the day each video was just a way for them to wind down and do something that caused them the slightest bit of joy. Recently, though, they changed their usual pathing through the slums due to a shift in drone behavior. It resulted in them coming across this.. river where trash would pile up and sometimes on their walks, they'd see a troll. It was an oliveblood from the looks of it, with thick green gloves like ones used in a garden, a black tanktop, a sunhat colored green along with a black stripe, and a grey bandana with a sign painted on the fabric. Cirava never really saw their full face, they always wore the bandana. At first they would just stand there, the both of them, look at each other and wonder what the other was doing. What the oliveblood would normally see is a cloaked figure, standing from high up with one glowing eye staring back at them. Slowly, they got used to each other's company, the oliveblood would come out at the same time everyday and wave at Cirava.
Cirava would.. wave back. It was strange honestly, their routine had become so bleak and lonely that this one interaction brought them a feeling of.. comfort. It felt like something they could control in their life, like this one thing wouldn't go wrong. It had been cycles, maybe enough for a full rotation of the season, the routine stayed the same. On one normal night, Cirava would take the same route, same time as always and .. when they did; nothing. No oliveblood stood there at the river, so Cirava waited.
And waited.
And waited.
No sign.
The goldblood couldn't stomach the idea of something going awry, not when they had just gotten used to it. Their thinkpan would race to the worst possible outcome at first, maybe the oliveblood had been culled. That was one of the things that made them feel sick at first, another thought settled that maybe they had simply grown tired of this routine. Cirava hadn't felt attachment like this in a long time. Instead of continuing to worry about the oliveblood, Cirava's thinkpan would instead turn to attacking themselves. They would think this is just a silly phase, why are they getting so wrapped up in this? They would sit there, head in their hands as they got further lost in thought. God, why did they ever think this was a good idea? They started to speak, if only to themselves, and nothing around them.
"fuck"
"im such an idiot i shouldve said something sooner"
"they couldnt have gotten hurt right"
"theres no way that couldve happened like"
"ugh. fuck, im an idiot"
And then a voice that was not their own spoke up.
" ...Hello.. uh... are you... is everything okay... "
The voice spoke in a sluggish manner, there was clear exhaustion in the tone, yet it came off as almost gentle and endearing. It was best described like a warm sip of tea on a cold day, the flavor? Green tea, with a little dash of sugar and honey.
" ...I don't... mean to interrupt..." The voice quieted down.
Cirava breaks free from their self deprecation only to yelp and scuttle backwards, scraping their palms against the rocks they were crouched on. Their bloodpusher rushes for a few moments before they see the boots planted before them, the pair that the oliveblood by the river wore. Their hood droops backwards as they look up to see the oliveblood, this time however, their bandana was pulled down, revealing a small little fang poking out their mouth. They had their hand up, their finger placed against their chin as they back away a little from them.
" Did I uh... did I scare you.. " They inquire.
" dont fucking sneak up on me like that, holy shit, i couldve like hurt you. " Cirava wipes their hands against their cloak.
" I uh... sorry... " They stand there for a second, watching Cirava shiver a little before they offering a hand to the goldblood.
" what- what are you doin lol. " The goldblood looks at their gloved hand.
" ..I thought you'd... need a little help.. standing.. " They stand there, eyes darting around.
Cirava stares, they reach their hand out, looking the oliveblood up and down. Then, they plant their hand in theirs, the oliveblood helps Cirava stand and they both stand there looking at each other.
" ..So.. uh... hey.. "
Very awkward isn't it.
" hey. "
Verrrrrryyyyy awkward.
" ..My name is uh... it's... it's Charun... " Charun, that's their name. It's a nice name. Certainly fits them. Charun looks at Cirava, expecting an answer back. Cirava raises their hand - a yellow scrap across their palm - and speaks in a careless manner.
" uhh- charun? alright- well, ig it’s only fair to tell u so, mine’s cirava. " The goldblood pulls a very strange but nice smile.
" ...Cirava... that's... nice... oh.. hey.. " Charun gently takes Cirava by the wrist, inspecting their palm, noticing the goldblood seeping out from within. Cirava flinches but watches as the oliveblood inspects with the utmost care.
" ..That's... not good... let me... " Cirava stands there, confused and quiet as they watch Charun dig in their satchel. They take out some old cloth and rip it apart, wrapping it around Cirava's hands.
" ..There.. all better.. " Charun smiles. That smile .. just... it's... it's really endearing. They smile back.
" …It’s getting pretty late.. would you like to.. come to my hive and… rest.. “ They scratch their chin.
" i uh.. i dont know I just-.. yknow what? fuck it, sure, i’ll come over lol. “ What’s the worst that could happen, so far Charun seemed like they couldn’t hurt a fly. Cirava would still be safe about it but.. they felt.. comfortable around them. And so they follow Charun back to their hive.