Chapter Text
See, the thing about it is that when you’re quadranted with a Highblood, you essentially are a Highblood. The fucking twist was that no one ever decided that there was a perfectly opportune moment to reveal this little detail to me so when my front door went from keeping me safe in my hive to being a pile of fucking splinters on my floor (and also in my goddamn face) I was a little concerned.
Needless to fucking say, I put up a fight for about three minutes, got punched in the throat and then hauled off without a word to explain why and all I could do was pray humbly to the ground as my face became exceedingly familiar with it. Hello dirt, good morning, sand in my eyesockets, would you please help ease me into death carefully as I consider the massive shitpile my life has been thusfar? What have I got, a fucking useless absentee moirail for whom I would dissect my own bulge and the most spectacular collection of romcoms that any troll has ever been beholden to this side of the fucking galaxy. Eight sweeps of a whole lot of fuckall and a bunch of shitty-ass friends who I’ll never get to say goodbye too. Welp, I’d say I meet the measure for satisfaction: stick a tined dining utensil in me because I’m fucking done.
But, nope. Nope, I wasn’t massacred or murdered or even tortured—though getting all the goddamn sand out of my eyes was about as blissful as using my nook as a rock polisher—I was tossed into a cramped little apartment in some obscure hivestem, right into the arms of previously mentioned fucking useless absentee moirail.
Still mostly blind and rather haphazardly bandaged up, at first I assumed that I was just chucked headfirst into some stranger until the guards gruffed out, “Here’s your boy, Makara. Watch him, ‘is eyes are fucked up.” I took a breath in and through the unfamiliar stench of disinfectant chemicals and unfamiliar setting-scents, I recognized the pasty perfume of Gamzee’s face paint and that ever-present musk of his sweat and ultra-concentrated sopor.
“Best friennnnnd!” he drawled out, pitched a little higher than usual, all while squeezing me with those engorged arms of his. I mean jegus fuck I hadn’t been in his arms for a sweep and a half, but I could tell even without seeing that he’d gained pounds of pure muscle. “Aw, now, what’d they up and do to your motherfuckin’ eyes, bro? You hangin’ in there?”
“Peachy,” I snapped. “I was told the damage wouldn’t be permanent, but fuck knows if that’s true. Dammit, Gamzee, not that I’m not glad to not see you, but what the fuck am I doing here?”
That idiot guffawed at me and patted me on the back, which even though I’m pretty damn sure was an attempt to be gentle, still made my vertebrae crack.
“Dude, I totally went and wrote your name on this paper thing,” he started explaining, “and they all them fat cats up top told me that they were gonna bring you in to all up and motherfuckin’ give you a job as my right hand bro. Ain’t that the most whimsical motherfuckin’ thing? Goddamn miracles, bro.”
I was groaning but it pretty much just came out as a growl.
“Whenever the fuck I get my eyesight back, I better see a copy of this damn paper so I can know what the fuck it is you signed me up for.”
“Naw, bro, it’s cool, I got it right here, I’ll read.” He picked me up and we sat on the sofa and I stayed in his lap while he uncrumpled a paper from his pocket and dictated to me. “ ‘Registration of Moirailegiance form Alpha sub Sigma: in which any troll established of the Hemospectrum Royal Subspectrum requisitions permanent, officially sanctioned Moirailegiance with a troll whereby any disability—mental or physical—mutation, or crime has rendered said troll authorized for culling…’ ”
“…oh no.”
“Shoosh. ‘This contract guaran-fuckin'-tees that any troll bound by its endorsement will be kept safe from any probable cause of culling due to the infractions listed in Culling Policy XVII subsection 2, provided that the Royal Subspectrum troll take full responsibility for his or her potentially cullable Moirail and that said Moirail follow set guidelines to assimilate into the Royal’s lifetime service.
Designate and sign below’ and there goes my name and your name right next to it and it’s already got the Imperious Bitch’s seal on it n’ everythin’. We’re set, best friend. Motherfuckin’ palebros for life.”
He squeezed me close to him even though I was shaking like a waterfall was barreling down on me. Or maybe because I was shaking, who the fuck knows.
“And I can watch over you now,” he crooned at me. “You don’t have to get your pretty little thinkpan all rattled over being killed no more. You’re motherfuckin’ safe from them. Forever.”
Being violently uprooted and shoved into a lifestyle that I had no idea about and definitely wouldn’t have chosen for myself was once thing to raise hell about. But being safe in my moirails arms was enough to keep me shut up for at least as long as it took for us to catch up on cuddling.
It took all night.