Perspective
Vriska had to admit, watching Tavros jump off the cliff was pretty funny. It had been about a week ago, in a FLARP session when Tavros had been cornered by a gang of monsters and was stuck there. Vriska grew tired of him thinking his next move, and psychically manipulated him to leap off the ledge. Now he was paralysed from the waist down and confined to a four-wheeled device.
Strangely, Tavros was not angry or resentful, just scared as he always was. Well, terrified now. Trolls were naturally war-like, how did Tavros survive? He's such a weakling, so passive, and he always stutters when speaking. Vriska was the polar opposite, she murdered trolls every day to feed her gigantic spider lusus.
She supposed it must be her own twisted version of pity. Yes, bullying him until he learned to stand up to her, and to lose his fear. Then there'd be no chance he would be culled if the drones discovered his weakness.
She stripped naked and climbed into her recupercoon, laying down in the warm green slime and nodding off.
"Hey, Vriska!" a voice cried. She frowned and turned towards the voice.
"What!?" she snarled. It was Tavros, and he looked confident. Usually when she snarled at him like that he'd basically melt. This one didn't. He was standing too.
"I'm sick of you!" He yelled. "What did I ever do to you, huh? Nothing! But you're always trying to kill me!" Vriska just scowled at him. She didn't know how to talk to a confident Tavros. "Well, I'm finishing it! Right now, come and get me!" he shouted, charging at her at lightning speed, knocking her on her ass before she could react.
She leapt to her feet, growling, and punched him in the face. He snarled and threw one back, which she manged to block with her arm. He shouldn't be fighting back! He threw a right hook and she ducked, and then used his overshoot to uppercut him on the chin and clock him on the nose with her right fist, sending blue blood spraying from his face as he fell. He got up and ran, but she didn't follow him.
She held her right hand up, examining the blood on her knuckles. It was blue. Tavros had bronze blood, second lowest on the hemospectrum. In fact, the blue blood on her hand was cobalt. Her blood colour.
She lifted her head at the sound of running, but it was too late. Tavros' lance went through her heart. Umber blood stained the lance as he pulled it out. Her face was a mask of shock and sadness as she fell to her knees, umber blood pooling underneath her. She looked up at Tavros, waving at her as cobalt blood dripped from his broken nose.
She held her wound and then looked at her blood. Bronze. She fell.
She gasped as she awoke, sopor slime sticking to her body. She clambered out, tracking the slime through her room, but she didn't care. She was hyperventilating as she scoured the room for something sharp. Anything sharp. Her broken 8-ball! She grabbed it and cut a small line on her palm, wincing at the pain. But she had to know. Cerulean blood oozed from the cut, and she gave a massive exhale of relief. She threw the shard down and held her forehead.
She was ridiculous, it was just a dream. How stupid she must look, naked, covered in sopor slime and she just cut herself to make sure her blood was the same colour as it was before. She got up and got dressed.
Wasn't sopor slime supposed to stop nightmares?