Oh God he hated the world.
He hated the world and everything in it, especially things that had bright colors or loud noises or emitted light or just existed period. He hated his lusus because the fucking thing only knew how to do shit like kill other shit and maybe ogle him in a manner that hovered between deranged and adoring.
But god forbid it knew how to do anything like cure a migrane. Or fetch an aspirin. Or even just rub the base of his horns. That was like the prime fucking spot for some therapeutic tension release, but mostly it was just hungry and demnading and totally fucking retarded.
But you know what, on the other hand, this was a good thing. The only thing here to witness him crying in his recuperacoon were the bees cultivating his mainframe upgrades. And thankfully, there were very few people who could actually decipher beenary in its primary form, so even if those traitorous fucks decided to tattle on him, the only response they would probably get in return was a garbled and panicked, "OHGODBEEEEEES".
His computer honked at him and he winced. Fucking honked. It had to be Gamzee, because no way did he set up that particular signature noise. He wondered if somehow he had managed to cultivate a few braincells and figure out how to hack into his system.
And then decided it was giving him way too much credit.
And then determined Gamzee probably set Karkat up to it. Not that Karkat really had to be set up to anything; he would jump at the chance to prove his incredibly feeble computer skillz to someone as ignorant and uninitiated as the clown humper. Oh, man. Oh man oh man oh man. He was being totally uncharitable, but fuck 'em all. His right side was beginning to seize up on him in concert with the iron pike being driven above the corresponding orbital socket. Even he was disgusted by the little whimper that got swallowed up by the sopor slime. He cuddled against the slime, trying to coax his muscles into relaxing.
It wasn't fair. He was alone, and he wanted to be alone but he didn't want to be lonely, and his friends kept up their inane goddamn chatter making his computer bleep and honk at his sore bulge and none of it was goddamn fair.
He spent the better part of the day wrapped in a swaddle of sopor slime and debilitating pain, the translucent yellow slipping down his face making doscolored little pools around his torso. Or maybe it wasn't most of the day, maybe it was really only a few minutes or hours, because time stopped making sense a while ago, and made less sense with this armageddon raging on in his brain. When he decided that the recuperacoon wasn't doing much aside for making him stir crazy, he hauled himself out, sliding down the bulbous face of it and trailing bicolored slime everywhere.
He would have been amused at the unwitting imagery he was conjuring if not for the nausea and searing fire. Not bothering to wipe off, Sollux crawled into some debatably clean clothes left lying around on the floor, rolling around instead of sitting up to situate himself. He was at his computer adjusting the brightness settings the next time he came to himself. A giant mute icon was just flashing to the bottom of his screen as he squinted through the mercifully light killing glasses perched on his nose.
And whaddya know. Someone new was trolling him. Well, not someone new, but definitely someone who would rather swallow their royal tongue before talking to someone like Sollux of their own volition. Ordinarily, he would find this somewhere between amusing and pathetic, given how big of a tool Eridan was, but right now it was kind of hard to summon any kind of coherent thought. He clicked on the flashing chat window.
[caliguasAquarium] began pestering [twinArmageddons]
of for the lovve of the sea wwill you please just answwer this and end this baseless humiliation
the things i do to keep my moirail placated
its absurd really
totally beneath me
sollux are you there
are you there
are you there
are you there
are you there
are you there
whoa 2top iit
what do you want
unless iit2 a flaming bag of vomiit delivered two your doorstep, ii probably cant proviide
oh charmin
just exactly wwhat i wwould expect from such a scum sucker like you
but
i must
restrain my disgust for you and attempt to reach out.
ii can practically hear the 2traiin
make thii2 fa2t ii have to feed my lu2u2 before all of hiis braiin2ell2 leak out
tho2e are iirrepla2able you know
so ii would have a totally retarded lu2u2 because of you
waiit he2 already totally retarded
2o ii gue22 ii have 2ome time
alright stop
just stop
i can feel my skin crawwl as i read this drivvel
but before i do this i must let you you this gesture is done under the greatest duress
uh huh
shut up
feferi in her unknowwable font of misguided mercy has tasked me wwith a noble quest
iif thii2 ii2 2ome weiird roleplay bull2hit can you take iit 2omewhere el2e
ii have a miigraiine and iim not 2ure how long ii can keep iit from kiilliing me
yes
this is wwhat I am approachin you about
my quest is to provvide one disgusting grovvelling creature so far beneath my notice that i wwould have to lift my shoe and use a magnifyin glass to find you, a service
you need a wiidening len2 to fiind me
yeah that2 classy
befiittiing of royalty
oh god
waiit did ii ju2t read that riight
a 2ervii2e?
yes shut up.
i wwas informed by gamzee that you wwere probably sufferin from one of the afflictions that plague your mutated lowwborn land body
actually iits a 2ide effect from being p2ychic
which coiin2iidentaly, ii2 totally not 2omethiing eiither of you royal2 are
wow look at that 2ome nook2ucking 2cumblood wiith 2ome awesome fucking power2 that
haha
you dont have
uuuurggghgh shut up shut up
no i must exercise control
you are so far beneath me it is sad and pathetic and funny
ahahahaha
there
now i shall magnanimously donate a respite for your cripplin lowwborn disease
what?
waiit 2o youre really actually doing 2omethiing not totally douchey?
ignorin that
it is really vvery rare and precious and there is only enough for one use
one of my many incredible finds that i stumbled upon during my roleplaying sessions
but of course wwith my perfect health i have no need of it
so i might as wwell give it to a land dwweller
may you choke on it and die soil fucker
[caligulasAquarium] ceased trolling [twinArmaggedons]
Well that was totally worthwhile. Now to get back to making friends with the floor and hope the bees didn't make a mainframe on his inert body.
Just as he was about to turn away, something different caught his eye. A dim, flashing light at the bottom of his screen showed that he had an email message. Kind of rare, given that he normally only used chat. He clicked on it, listening to his lusus grumble above him. He really did have to get the lead out and feed that poor fucker, or else he would find him up there comatose because he forgot how to breathe.
It was a notification from the mail system. The actual physical mail system, which was kind of odd and funny because he just got a mail about mail. Nevermind. It declared that the most expensive postage was used, and stamped with a royal seal. So basically, as soon as it left Eridan's moist hands, it practically landed on his doorstep. It didn't weigh much but was marked as fragile. He considered the threat of it being stolen and weighed it against the inferno in his head, and then briefly considered using his psychic powers to bring it up from his mail slot.
Wow what a totally braidead indea. That would probably make him have a seizure or something equally harmful.
So he slouched down the stairs, resolutely ignoring his lusus' bawwing, into the grungy lowest common area of the communal hive stem. The rows of dictatorial transactions slots were lined off to his right, and he fought his way through a throng of older trolls to get to it, not even bothering to snarl at them as he pushed through. He dug his key, nice fancy alien word, out of his pocket and opened his own slot. Inside was a thin package, the only mail he'd receieved for a few weeks. He was down on boondollars, so he'd had to cut back on the games he ordered, making downstairs trips largely useless.
And in spite of himself, and the growling tirade infesting his head about the fishy fuckwad, a small, helpless little voice begged that Eridan was being truthful, and this would actually help his migraine. His fingers were stiff as we pried it open, flicking off some of the curious horde he had just dispelled who were now watching his conduct with opportunistic interest. Fuckers could go find their own royally endorsed homeopathic medecine. This shit was his.
The inside of the package smelled of books and antiques and stank of purple blood. Swell. He'd have to burn this damn thing so as not to have it stink up his respiteblock. Sollux sighed, diving a hand in and fishing around.
Oh fucking great. Nothing there. God he couldn't believe what a gullible douche he was to fall for that-
Wait.
His hand closed around a tiny ampoule. He pulled it out, and held it to the dim lights above him. It was a dark bottle, covered with peeling paper and lettering he couldn't read. Holy shit, he actually meant it.
Sollux paused, torn between desperation and mistrust. For all he knew this was just a step in that genocidal fishfucker's master plan to wipe out the land dwellers. And then discarded it, popping open the tiny glass stopper, because after all, it wasn't like Eridan was really any good at mass killing anyway.
It didn't have much of a scent, he noticed when he brought it to his face. His throat was getting a little tight from frustration, and he reached up to run a few gentle fingers at the base of his horns, putting the mouth of the bottle to his lips. It tasted like sea water and tears as he swallowed the scant mouthful.
Somewhere, he could hear the great wash of the sea.
Wait that didn't make any fucking sense, he wasn't anywhere near the-
The migraine was gone.
Sollux stopped dead, flabbergasted and totally mystified.
Nothing in particular came to invade the void the realization made, and he stood there, tiny bottle clutched in one pale hand with the taste of the sea in his mouth.
After a few minutes blisfully devoid of agonizing pain, he shuffled off, not even bothering to close the door of his slot in his pleasant stupor.
The long walk up the stairs gave him time to think, as the sound of his lusus' braying became more insistent with each ascending flight. Maybe he should thank Eridan- wait, no. It wasn't Eridan's doing, it was Feferi's, kind of indirectly. He contemplated how to return the gesture without coming right out and thanking her and making himself as much of a tool as her doofy moirail.
He didn't even mind the blush that had crept up from his collar to his ears in repercussion from the endorphin high the little bottle gave him. At least, that's what he told himself it was from.