He takes her by the hips and guides her up among the stars, and there are universes in her sightless eyes. His hands feel like bruises on her skin, and his blood tastes like blackcurrants on her tongue. He is the worst, the most chaotic, the most irrational of them all; and his nature defies her in the best of ways. She waxes black for him stronger than she waxes red for Karkat, and that terrifies her in ways she didn't think possible.

For who is she, this girl born of justice who hates a maniac so deeply, so strongly as to feel it in the depths of her bones and the motions of her day? Who is this girl, with the blind eyes and the keen nose, who swore she would never deign to fill a quadrant with Gamzee Makara?

Her name can't be Terezi Pyrope. Surely not.

That wouldn't make sense.

Just like he doesn't make sense.

Nothing makes sense.