A young woman stood in the downtown district of her new home, just outside the popular club Three in the Morning. A small mirror in hand, she feigned interest in fixing her dark lipstick. In reality, the woman watched the reflections of partygoers as they streamed from the establishment. Ever patient, she examined their demeanor and body language in the small pane, in absence of a more glaring tell. Finally, the door swung open on its own. She listened as light footsteps passed her and glanced up. Despite his grace, the man was surprisingly large and dressed in a long, grey overcoat.
HIM.
Reaching into her purse, the young woman traded her mirror for a pair of long thorns clipped from an alraune bush. Then, she followed the man at 30 paces back. The man kept to the main street for several blocks before turning into an alleyway. The woman darted forward. GIVE HIM TO US. When she turned the corner, the man was facing her. His palms were open in a non-threatening posture.
"It's late ta be wandering down an alley, girly. Be more careful; I coulda been some kinda creep. Ya oughtta know that's dange-"
The woman raised her thorns skyward. Then, she stabbed them toward the earth. Two thorns eight feet in length tore themselves from the tangle of particles hidden between air and void. They slammed down into the man, pinning him to the cement by his shoulder and leg. His screech was entirely inhuman, a sound unholy enough to freeze a regular person in place.
This woman just curled her lip. "Apologies. It's not my style to miss. I prefer a painless death out of respect for your former humanity."
"No, please," the man whimpered, "I won't hurt anyone, I swear. Please don't kill me."
WE WILL JUDGE HIM. STAY NOT YOUR HAND.
The young woman brought her right hand up and stabbed down a second time. The greater alraune thorn was yanked free of the man's shoulder, leaving a ring of decayed flesh, and pierced his heart.
_.._. ._.._
In early fall, the campus was a lovely sight. The stone formations were leeched of color over the years, and untamed ivy reclaimed many of the school's walls. Plans to renovate were made and delayed in an endless cycle of budgetary trouble. Personally, John thought it added an air of mystery and was perfectly content with the College of the Lyrist.
Rather, he would be content had he recalled the size of the campus when he put together his schedule. As it was, he took in very little of the architecture while weaving between students. He had ten minutes to sprint from Calculus Three on one end of the University to Intro to Journalism on the other. Worse, he suspected a bicycle would slow him down with this volume of people to dodge.
Arriving at Ebonpyre Hall with just a minute to spare, John double checked the room number on his schedule. 701. Of course it was on the top floor. The elevator would take too long. With a histrionic sigh, he hit the stairs four steps at a time. Finally swinging open the door, John nodded an apology to the instructor for the interruption and made a mental note to visit his academic counselor right after Journalism. He needed to change his schedule.
He scanned the room for the last open seat; it was in the front right corner of the room. John carefully sat- it still amazed him that such a spindly chair would support his weight- and produced a fresh set of pens and notebooks. Then, he froze. What on Earth was that smell? A mix of apple blossoms, salt, and a hint of… vinegar? No, it was a little more pungent; like formic acid. Definitely formic acid.
Nearly dying of curiousity, John tried to act casual as he glanced to his left. Then he saw the kid. All pretense was lost, and his jaw dropped. The guy was virtually glowing, paler than anyone John had ever seen with a pigment disorder. His hair looked like sugar spun grass and his lips were a hint of rose in ice. He wore onyx black aviators that contrasted with his skin like a soft kiss followed by a punch in the gut. John suddenly had a very strong desire to see his brows, his lashes, his eyes, to just lean over and...
One of his desires was immediately fulfilled when the guy turned toward John and an eyebrow shot over his shades. Oh goodness, it was even finer and prettier than his hair. John was fairly certain he stopped breathing. He couldn't bring himself to care.
The guy must've noticed, too. A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips, and he whispered, "Something catch your eye?"
Without the slightest volume control, John answered, "You smell like Apple Cider Vinegar." That earned John a view of both eyebrows.
The instructor looked irritated at the outburst and the rest of the class confused. When he realized what he'd done, he blushed furiously and buried his head in his notes. "Sorry!" he squeaked. For the rest of the hour, he snuck a liberal amount of looks to his left. When the initial shock of the color wore off, John noticed that the boy would be pretty even in grayscale. He had nice lines: prominent cheekbones and defined collarbones peaking out from his shirt. Then there were the black skinny jeans. They deserved an entire paragraph all on their own. John wasn't sure if he should be envious of those looks or delirious with want.
The first day syllabus and course overview didn't need his full attention anyways.
When the instructor- Ken? It definitely started with a K.- dismissed them, the snowy boy turned to John. "Apple Cider Vinegar?"
John flushed again. The girl on the other side of the pale boy piped in, "I can smell it too! I would've said an ant colony living in an apple tree. Vinegar makes more sense, though. Do you bathe in the stuff or what?!"
John couldn't help but feel disappointed when the boy looked away from him. "That is 100% natural, all organic eau de Strider. Dave Strider, that is." Dave shook the girl's hand.
"I'm Jade Harley!"
John shoved his fists in his sweater pockets. The other two students talked until they were the last three left in the room. John rose with them and awkwardly offered a hand. "John Egbert."
That earned yet another eyebrow from Dave, though he did take John's hand. "Little slow on the introduction there, my fine nosed friend."
Jade grabbed John's left for a double handshake. Her skin was rich in color and calloused with years of honest effort. "Nice to meet you, John! Do either of you have 11 AMs?"
"Negative." "I'm free until 12:30."
Jade beamed. "We should all go get lunch, then! What do you say?"
"Sure," Dave said.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, kindly raven-haired girl. "I'd like that."
Surprisingly, neither Jade nor Dave opted for the elevator, apparently as unbothered by six flights of stairs as John. Dave paused at the door to shrug on a jacket, hood, and gloves.
"Woah, it's- what- 65 out?"
Dave shrugged. "I don't do well with direct sunlight."
The main cafeteria was nestled behind the library. John and Jade wolfed their plates down, and Dave was full after two small bites. Jade declared an arm wrestling match for the leftovers. John pulled his hand from his pocket, fully prepared to go easy on her. He was not expecting to have his knuckles smashed mercilessly into the table.
"Ow! I wasn't ready. Best two out of three."
"Whiner! It's on."
This time, he didn't hold back. Dave had an entire chocolate cake left, and John admitted he was a glutton through and through. It was Jade's turn to look astonished when she was easily overpowered.
Round three, John grinned at his new classmate as he took her hand. She grinned right back. "Go," Dave said.
To his surprise, Jade matched John muscle for muscle, all restraint gone in both parties. The struggle was enough to make them both sweat, neither budging. When the table beneath them started to creak, they exchanged a look and both let go at the same time. "Guess it's a tie." All that effort, and they split the cake.
Still, Jade turned out to be just as interesting as Dave. John better get used to running through mobs of students because he sure wasn't switching out of Journalism.
_.._. ._.._
.^"-.._ '-(\_/)-' _..-"^.
The first week of college, John learned that Dave and Jade were both taking Journalism to fulfill a freshmen general requirement like him. Jade was interested in particle physics, and Dave was majoring in Asian Studies with a specialization in Japanese, but "I swear to the gods, Egbert, if you say one word about anime, I will rip your tongue out and use it to clean my toilet."
John was rather confused why the boy chose his field of study despite his vocal resentment of anything slightly related to the culture, but to each his own. John told them he was hoping to major in Computational Biology, but he needed outstanding grades his first year to be accepted in the program.
The second week of school, John decided spending time with his two classmates was very pleasant. He couldn't remember the last time he got close to someone. He wasn't sure Jade and Dave actually liked him; he frequently caught them making similar twisted, wistful faces. Still, Dave was clearly there to socialize. He didn't even bother buying lunches anymore, just chatted with the others. Thus ended the wrestling matches for his leftovers.
Two months in, a girl hung back to pester the instructor- was his name Kane? As per usual, the three of them took their sweet time getting packed up. None of them needed even a half hour to eat. Why rush?
Thus, John overheard her talking.
"Sir, I would like to complete the project on my own."
The instructor scowled at her. "The workload is too much for one person."
"So adjust the requirement. I'll do half the work despite being a quarter the team."
"I am NOT changing the project requirements just for you. They were selected very deliberately." Karin? responded. "Find at least one other student to work with, or I'm assigning you a group."
Voice dripping with displeasure, the girl said, "Thank you, sir," and spun on her heel.
The instructor went back to sorting his lecture material and wrestling with his bag. "...hold your tongue. Have to hold your tongue…"
The girl was very lightly colored- though she may as well have been a box of crayons standing next to Dave- with platinum blonde hair and violet contacts. John tapped her shoulder as she walked by, then stuffed his hands in his sweatshirt pouch. "Excuse me."
"Do you need something?"
"Well, we still need one more person." John turned suddenly to the others, uncertain if he'd overstepped his bounds. "We have three people, right? You guys will work with me?"
"Duh." "I'd love to work with all of you!"
The girl looked them over, eyes hard. "Pardon my presumption, but I am not entirely convinced you can keep up with me, apple cider vinegar."
John flushed. That was why the girl wanted to work on her own, not just trouble finding teammates. "That was just a slip up. Here, I got a perfect score on the last assignment."
John handed over his report debating the use of vintage cheeses in bakery products. The girl skimmed the pages, then looked up in surprise. "Albeit a rather eccentric topic choice, I admit the structure of your writing is competent. I am also impressed that you managed to arrange an interview with Genevieve Anthony for a school assignment. She's head chef at the Ace of Trump, no?"
"She is. You could say I'm a frequent visitor."
That earned a chuckle from the girl and an extended hand. "Rose Lalonde. Are you suggesting you regularly consume $80 filet mignon?"
"John Egbert. What can I say? I like food."
Dave grabbed John by both shoulders and bodily turned the other toward him. "John. You have that much money to burn on food, and you haven't been buying me lunch? I am so broke, bro, so broke."
Dave was right in his face. John made himself look away. Not in front of Jade, Rose, and the instructor. (Was it Carter? No, Karin was closer.) "I'm really sorry! Is that why you don't eat? I don't mind mooching, but it will cost you your pride and possibly your soul."
"Worry not. I lost my pride many years ago to fuzzy, technicolor proboscii, and my soul is tainted. You'll beg for a refund within a week."
"I find it terrifying that you are completely serious."
Rose exchanged names with the others. "Have any of you chosen a topic for the project yet?"
Jade shrugged and looked at Dave who passed the metaphorical ball to John. "It has to be related to the environment at Lyrist… Did you guys know some of the scenes from Orchid Horror were filmed here on campus? I bet I could arrange a skype interview with the dir-"
"NO," the other two chorused.
"Then we've got nothing."
"Wonderful," Rose said, "I already have a subject in mind, if you are willing: I'd like to write about the Literature Club on campus."
Dave deadpanned, "Wow. What an enthralling topic. In fact, I'd rather write about Book Club than fuck myself."
Karl?! muttered, "...but the students can curse whenever they want…"
Rose glanced at their instructor before responding, "Last semester, the club was challenged by a large portion of the staff and student body for popularizing progressive material. Despite being a mere book club, they were able to successfully campaign against the masses and had a large number of staff members replaced for breaking the code of conduct. I thought it would make for an intriguing paper."
"Woah, hold on blondie. Lyrist's prof turnover this year is because of the lit. kids? You're joking. The new staff is at least 80% of the reason I'm here and not U of Houston. The other 20% being the nearby mountain."
"Oh? Interested after all, Strider?"
Jade countered, "I'll only agree if John and I can run some simulations and make projections based on alternate campaigning options."
"I'm not opposed, though that seems above and beyond the project requirements."
John laughed. "I'm not here for an A, dummy. I want to learn. I'm not going to get anything out of a journalism class unless I apply it."
"...students… bunch of insolent bulge suckers…" The instructor slammed the door on his way out.
"Whoops."
After exchanging a few more details about the project and contact information, Rose went on her way, a bit more spring in her step than before. Dave was rather upbeat himself when the remaining three arrived at the cafeteria. He ran straight past the dishes to the beverages. A bottle of apple juice in hand, he doubled back for an orange, a block of cheese, and plain granola. Then he stopped in front of John.
"...Were you joking about feeding me?" He looked so disappointed.
"Nah, I've got you, buddy." John noticed the tags on the items. "Wait, do you only eat organic food?"
Dave looked away. "Can't have anything else, but this shit is so expensive."
Dave stiffened when Jade gave him a hug. "Oh, Dave! You should've told us you couldn't afford to eat this whole time. That's so sad!"
John patted him on the head. Uguu, his hair was so soft. "Morals are kind of a dumb reason to starve yourself. Or do you have allergies?"
The boy shrugged sheepishly. "It's more of a religious thing."
John had to cover his mouth. "Are you actually Amish? That would be hilarious for so many reasons."
The pale boy laughed. "I would be so screwed if I followed Ammann. Not an ounce of humility in this perfect body. As far as I'm concerned, I am an angel incarnate. A very, very broke, unemployed angel living on a meager budget from my asshole of a brother."
Jade elbowed him. "An angel that's scared of the sun. You're more of a vampire!"
Dave stiffened visibly at the suggestion before responding. "Oh, very funny. Make fun of my religion and my pigment disorder in one sentence. Harshing the Strider swag. You are the queen of sensitivity, Jade." Despite his indignance, Dave was still enthused about his meal, this time swallowing every bite.
_.._. ._.._
.^"-.._ '-(\_/)-' _..-"^.
'-.' oo '.-'
The next day, Rose seated herself in the front alongside the other three. Within a week, she joined them at lunch, easily melding with their dynamic. She kept pace with Jade's temperament and contributed to Dave's lunch budget. On occasion, the four of them got together for a study session or movies. John especially appreciated her assistance with Calculus. Though Jade also jumped straight to Calc 3 as a freshman, the eclectic girl wasn't always the best at communicating ideas. On the opposite end of the scale, Rose displayed unparalleled eloquence, if one could get over her wordiness.
John and Rose were hunkered down in the library at a table by the window, a small army of empty coffee cups scattered between them. Caffeine equated to better exam grades in John's opinion.
He just finished explaining one of the rare problems he understood better than the girl. "Is that clear?"
"Much so, thank you. I do have one question for you, though. Is there any particular reason you defined S-sub i and S-sub r for the set of all integers and rationals, respectively?"
John laughed. "Pff, that is the dumbest question you have ever asked me. They're just variables. You can use whatever you want."
Rose looked at him curiously. "Dearest John, I am clearly familiar with the use of variables, as I marginally passed sixth grade mathematics. My curiosity lies in why you chose not to use Z and Q. Though I'm hardly one to adhere to societal standards myself, using the correct notation on assignments equates to better scores."
"There isn't correct notation. They're variables."
"More correct, not really. The standard since 1930, absolutely."
John facepalmed. "Right, right. Those." He erased the tiny 'i' and 'r' and replaced them with a subscript 'z' and 'q' on his homework.
Rose's laugh was always perfectly controlled albeit genuine. "You haven't the slightest inclination what I'm referring to. A blackboard Z and Q? I can explain if you'd prefer not to flounder. There's hardly any need to cover for your shortcomings or act more knowledgeable than you are."
"Shh, just let me pretend I'm not dumb."
"I would hardly refer to you as dumb."
"Of course not, dearest Rose. You would say I'm 'a tad less rotund in the frontal lobe' or something else silly."
"You caught me there."
John enjoyed bantering with Rose as much as grappling with Jade and dancing around Dave. It surprised him how much he admired them. College was downright dreamy until the day they were scheduled to meet with the Lit Club admins.
The quartet gathered in the student center lounge on October Sixth and made their way to the office reserved for the Literature meetings. The door was peppered garishly with photos of cats. Rose took the lead and knocked.
They were met with a sing song voice. "Come in!"
The room was well organized and brightly decorated. There were three students seated in a circle with three chairs remaining. In the center was a cheery girl wearing an excess of shiny bangles. To her left, a boy slouched over an old Gameboy, squinting through cheap 3D glasses. Several cables poked out the back of the console's casing. Glaring at him was another boy to the right. His hair was meticulously styled and dyed purple, and his clothing was visibly expensive.
John and Jade immediately wrestled each other to the nearest available seat. After a couple moments scrabbling for purchase, John thought he had her in a choke hold. Then, Jade clawed at him to free herself and twisted his hand out to pin him by his wrist.
"I give. I give!" John plopped on the floor and leaned against Jade. He didn't even consider going for the other two. Rose was terrifying and Dave was gorgeous.
The cheery girl stood. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't realize there would be four of you. Here, please take my seat."
John waved her off. "Oh, don't worry about it! Perfectly comfy right here, scout's honor." Jade kicked him.
"If you insist. I'm Feferi Peixes, by the way. Vice President of the club. Nice to meet you all!"
Rose answered, "Hello, Feferi. I'm Rose. The snowflake is Dave, and the WWE act consists of John and Jade." She ignored their protests. "Thank you for allowing us to interview you."
"Of course! It's exciting to hear someone taking a positive interest in our activities for once. We have an hour set aside; I hope that's enough time. We can start wherever you like!"
"Thank you. We compiled a list of specific points to cover, though we'd like to start with your point of view of the story, if you don't mind. The information we have as of now is relatively limited."
Feferi clapped her hands together, excited. "From the beginning?"
Dave nodded, "If it's relevant."
"It wouldn't be the beginning otherwise, silly. Everything started last fall when one of our members, Aradia Megido, nominated the nonfiction work ColoUrs and Mayhem for club reading. All of the admins were very excited about the choice-"
The boy to the right cleared his throat loudly.
Feferi was perfectly chilly when she addressed him. "Do you need something, Eridan?"
"You neglected to introduce us." His cadence was heavy and suspiciously similar to the Elder Scroll's voice actors.
"Sorry about that! I figured you'd cut in like usual. This is Eridan Ampora, our secretary." Feferi then waved to her left. "And this is our treasurer, Sollux Captor."
"What Fef?" Sollux looked up from his game. "Oh, when did you get here?"
The four of them exchanged a look and gave their names again.
" 'Thup. I'm Thollukth. Thahak ith the preth, but he wath buthy today. Doethn't matter though. I'm actually in charge." Oh lord. John hoped Feferi would be answering their questions. Not that he thought any less of Sollux for the speech impediment and Eridan for the faked accent. It was just… okay, he totally did. Try not to vocalize the shallowness, he prompted himself. It was only an hour.
Jade asked, "You make the calls then, Sollux?"
"Nah. That'th what FF ith for. If we need to get any actual work done… that'th where I thtep in."
"And what did you think of the book ColoUrs and Mayhem when it was nominated?"
Sollux shrugged. "Interethting read for thure. I wath adopted by white parentth, tho itth pretty relevant to me. Cognitive dithonanthe from people in rethponthe to rathial dythphoria. I've been there."
John wasn't quite following. Hopefully, Rose was taking good notes.
Sollux nodded to Dave. "You can probably empathithe."
"I can." Dave cocked an eyebrow. "That's why you're in charge? You have an astute eye."
"Pretty much. No one elthe thpotth it, I athume?"
"Nope."
Rose looked between them. "Pardon?"
"The thape of hith fathe. He'th tho fucking white, I didn't notithe at firtht, but-"
Dave finished, "Never met her, but my mom is Japanese."
"Oh! Yet you're always called-"
"I know, Egbert. Now, my bro- that'd be an apt description for him. Watched too much anime, decided he's a fucking ninja, moved to Japan."
"Uh, wouldn't your brother also be-"
"Sorry, I meant my dad."
"...What?"
Rose turned a questioning eye on Dave. "Pardon my failure to make that observation. Despite the relevance to our research paper, you chosen not to mention this because…?"
"Oh, fuck no, Lalonde. We are not psychoanalysing me for the paper."
"It could be such a delightful experience, Strider. The imagery you create with your colorful language is nothing short of impressive."
Eridan grew impatient with them. "So. Wwe chose ColoUrs and Mayhem for club reading last fall. Our discussions wwere wwell received in the club, but wwe started attracting new members that showwed up just to argue wwith us."
"Thank you for getting us on task, Eridan," Rose said. "Were the new members affiliated with any other organizations?"
"Wwe didn't realize at first, but at least one of them wwas wwith the Lyrist student newspaper. Others wwere from the Students Wwithout Borders org."
Feferi said, "They meant well! They really do a lot of good things on campus, but they disagree with the author of the book. Very loudly."
"Do you agree?"
Feferi waved her arms around, bangles jingling. "We're a book club! As a whole, our porpoise isn't to agree or disagree. We analyze." ...Was that a pun?
"And what do you personally think?" Dave insisted.
"Calliope is a great author, and her writing is very insightful, but sometimes she can be a bit ideal."
Eridan contradicted her, "Ms. English knowws her stuff. Her wworks are masterpieces. I wwould never say she's an idealist, not with howw well she addresses multiple sides of a story."
"You wouldn't recognize idealism, would you?" Feferi seemed a bit ruffled, her cheery demeanor cracking.
"I still don't see any problem wwith joining you when you vvisit Sol. You're supposed to be my best friend. Of course wwe spend time together."
Feferi crossed her arms. "You can't just crash a date whenever you feel like it. That's rude and- and clingy! And it makes us uncomfortable, right Sollux?"
Captor waved a hand dismissively without looking up. "Nah, ED is cool. We were just talking while I rigged my Gameboy anyways."
Feferi groaned. "Well that's not the point anyways. Sometimes, I just need space, okay?"
Jade hissed to John, "Do something!"
"Uh, do you guys need a minute to talk? We can wait outside or something," John said.
"Oh, no worries! Everything is just fine," Feferi insisted.
"Wwell, I wwould like to talk."
John hastily stood and pulled Jade with him. "Of course! Just tell us when you are ready." He waved frantically at his other teammates to join him.
Last to the hallway, Rose shut the door behind them. "Are you sure that was wise? We may be able to facilitate their discussion."
John disagreed, "Oh gosh, no. Maybe you'd have some advice for them, but I've never had a girlfriend before. Do you realize how lame that is? I'm old!"
"I am sure you'll have some success in love endeavors eventually. We are only freshmen, after all."
"We? You've never had a boyfriend either?"
Rose shrugged. "I've never had the time or patience to look for someone suitable, though I would prefer a girlfriend myself." She waggled her brows at Jade, earning a round of laughs.
The merriment was cut off by shouts. "Howw dare you?!"
"How dare me? Me?! You're the worst! I hate you!"
They went eerily quiet for a moment, then a loud boom shook the hall and resonated in John's very bones.
"FF!"
Rose threw the door open and ran in. The other three were right on her heel. Feferi was crumpled on the ground, face frozen in horror. A large hole ran through her gut. The skin was charred. Sollux knelt next to her, shaking her shoulder. Eridan stood over them, pointing what looked an awful lot like a magic wand emitting smoke. All three of them were drenched in blood spray.
Without hesitating, Rose jabbed Eridan in the solar plexus and wrested the wand from him. Jade pulled Sollux away from the body and wrapped him in a hug, carefully covering his eyes. John took Sollux's place next to Feferi and listened for a pulse. Hearing nothing, he stuffed his jacket in her wound in a futile attempt to stifle some of the bleeding. Dave knelt on the other side and applied pressure to the jacket. He closed his eyes, removed his glasses, and whispered something to Feferi. John couldn't hear it; his ears stung.
John pressed down on her chest once, twice, thirtieth in quick succession. During the chest compressions, he bit his tongue in his desperation. He tilted Feferi's head back, pinched her nose, and breathed into her. His tongue bled profusely; some of it spilled into her mouth. Another thirty chest compressions. Two more deep breaths.
Rose pinned Eridan to the floor. Jade was on the phone with the police, frantically trying to explain the situation without letting go of Sollux. Thirty and two. Dave kept whispering, lids shut tight and hands firm on the wound, trying to stop the bloodflow. John realized it was a prayer. He regretted a little that he couldn't echo Dave's words and kept at the CPR. 30, 2.
When the EMT's arrived, Jade and Rose had to pull John and Dave from Feferi, both of them still desperate to revive her. They huddled together in silence. John was surprised by the comfort their solidarity provided just by proximity. In all his years, he'd never experienced anything like it. They must be friends after all. The best of friends.
Finding his voice, John cursed, "Damn it! Why didn't it take?"
Jade rubbed his back. "You tried. It's okay."
Having handed Eridan over to the police, Rose engaged Dave in a very similar conversation. "I'm confident either of us would've done more if we could."
"I know." Dave finally opened his eyes. John's breath caught all over again. The boy's eyes were a vivid scarlet, alight with the color like an apple skin. It wasn't just a reflection of the vessels at the back of his eyeballs. His irises were sanguine.
John watched, utterly fixated, as the other boy made eye contact with him. Then, Dave's eyes slid down and traced the blood on John's chin and hands. The pale boy started to drool.
_.._. ._.._
.^"-.._ '-(\_/)-' _..-"^.
'-.' oo '.-'
`-..-'
The following afternoon, the quartet met outside their Journalism instructor's office. They were all still shell shocked. Solemn, John told them, "I sort of volunteer at the hospital. They took her straight to the coroner."
Rose shot Dave a weird look, then bowed her head. "I suspected as much."
Dave took the news a little more poorly. "Shit! I should've fixed her or prevented the attack in the first place."
John watched as Jade pulled the other two into a group hug. Rose deliberately leaned against Dave, again wearing a strange expression.
"Shh, shh. It was a really freaky murder, and it's all on that Ampora duchehair fuckface, okay?"
"What did you just say?" Oh, there's the instructor now. Evidently, he was not in his office.
Jade shrunk in on herself a bit and let go of her friends. "...duchehair fuckface?"
"Like water to my parched hear ducts."
"Sorry?" Jade was dazed.
The instructor explained while struggling with his lock. "I may have had a problem with offensive language when I started teaching last year. After a few of my more derisive slips in class were reported, I received a rather threatening missive from the board in my department. I was forced to cut the habit cold thankfulbird. It's been too many months since I've heard as colorful a curse as that. Most of the students-" The instructor looked pointedly at Dave. "-crudely fire f-bombs at will."
His name was… McKartney? No, that was completely wrong. John really should've asked one of the others before now. Or paid attention during introductions the first day.
"These days, I'm in the habit of inventing my own expletives, as you've noticed if you listen to a word I say in class. I realize I come off as the slime coating the inside of my gallsphincter because of it, but I don't see any real reason to keep up a persona cleaner than my actual character." After kicking it once, the instructor finally got his door open. "Come in. Sit down. Or not. I only have two chairs." He opted to lounge on top of his desk and rolled his own chair over to them with a foot.
Though a common gesture, John couldn't help but think of Feferi as he took it. Even in the short time he knew her, the girl was clearly an innocent person. Her wound was awful, but why didn't John's attempt to revive her take? It wasn't fair.
Jade took the other spot and Rose lounged on her armrest, saying, "Professor Vantas, sir. We need an extension on the project."
The instructor nodded. "Karkat is fine, if not Mr. Vantas. I'm still a grad student; I haven't earned prof status."
"Karkat!" Everyone looked at John. Hastily, he explained, "I thought people were calling you Carrot. I didn't realize that was actually your name."
Karkat rubbed his face and mumbled, "...Don't react, Vantas… Don't react." After a moment to collect himself, he turned to Rose. "An extension. That's fair, given the situation. I'm very sorry to hear about what happened. I can't even imagine how I'd cope if I witnessed it, though there'd likely be a few nights of heavy soporifics involved. Where any of you close to Feferi?"
"Only knew her for fifteen minutes." Judging from his cadence, Dave regretted the loss nonetheless.
"A shame. She was the type to befriend everyone unless crossed. Admittedly, I was rooting for her when she booted my coworkers right in the bulge. Not that I have much knowledge about the whole ColoUrs and Mayhem incident."
Rose nodded. "Perhaps in another life, she is willing to endure my disarming personality, and we'd be the best of chums."
"Do you know how much of an extension you will need?"
"We got started pretty early, and we still have some time left." Jade squinted as she made an estimate. "One week? Two if you want a project of the quality we were hoping to give."
"Why so long?" Karkat questioned.
John answered, "We didn't finish our interview, and now we don't have enough information to couple with our thesis. We thought it would be a little rude to bother the other Lit. Club members right now, especially after everything, so we're going to start over with a brand-new topic."
Karkat laid down on his desk and stuck a foot on top of his computer tower. Sure. It was his office, John supposed. The instructor asked, "Is the research you've done specific to the Literature students, or does it apply in general?"
"Much of our work so far is geared toward a small organization running a successful campaign against both numerical odds and unpopular reasoning at both the rhetorical level and the psychological level. We also compiled historical examples for comparison," Rose summed.
Karkat blinked at her and sat back up. "You're joking. 90% of the class is going to report on their favorite class, one of the collegiate sporting events, or some other bugwinged bile threaded with unscholarly sentiment that should've been left in the dross coffer."
John started laughing. "Pfff. Bugwinged bile. Why would anyone report you? You're hilarious."
"At least someone appreciates the value of wordplay. Are the four of you still interested in the topic itself, or would you prefer to avoid it after everything?"
"It's interesting enough," Dave admitted.
Rose added, "As I said, we've only dropped the topic out of respect for the other Literature Club members."
"I'd hate to make you all start over. It'd eschew some of the requirements, and segueing into the second part of the project will be a little difficult, but you are welcome to keep the thesis and make it theoretical if you can't work with it to apply to another student org."
"Pardon, I'm not aware of any other organizations that fit the description, sir."
Karkat smirked at her. "There might be one that better fits the description."
"Oh? Do tell."
"CAFC took a case all the way to the State two years ago. I daresay their platform contradicted popular opinion in both common rhetoric and psychology."
Rose's smile was a bit unsettling. "That's quite a claim."
"The club convinced the U.S. court system to recognize the rights of people that don't exist."
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John glanced up at his Calculus 3 professor on occasion, though most of his attention was on a doodle in his song book and his thoughts. Sometimes, he jotted down actual notes. For the most part, crudely drawn ghosts darted between staffs. His thoughts wandered. There was no way Karkat was referring to the same case John was familiar with...
A knock on the door got his attention. The professor ignored it at first. When the knock became more insistent, she pointed at the closest students, "Mind getting that quick?"
A boy wearing a stip of fabric just barely passing for shorts stood. After opening the door, he called, "Hey, Professor? This might be important."
Two police officers pushed past the boy and approached the front of the room. "Good morning, sir, ma'am. Can I help you with something?" the professor asked.
They exchanged a few hushed words. The professor nodded to them, face dark, and walked over to the students. She stopped in front of John. "Mr. Egbert, would you mind joining them in the hall for a little bit?"
John set aside his songbook and started toward the aisle. "Of course."
"Mr. Egbert, please bring your things with you."
Frowning, John gathered everything and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Outside the lecture hall, John offered the two a handshake. "Good morning, officers. I presume you are aware I am John Egbert? Thank you for coming all the way out here. If you needed another statement about Feferi, you were welcome to call. I'd have been completely willing to drop by the station. I'm not too busy."
The woman grimaced at him. "Mr. Egbert, we're going to need a little more than a statement. You're currently under suspicion for homicide and accessory to homicide."
"Oh." John's hand dropped. "This is about Feferi, right? Am I being arrested? I've never been arrested before. Should I give you my ID or-"
"Calm down, son. If you didn't do anything, you have nothing to worry about. We just need you to come with us for now."
John was quiet the whole way to the station. He focused on not forgetting to breathe. Since he cooperated through the police statements and his escort, he wasn't cuffed, though his jacket and backpack were taken. He rubbed his hands together so they wouldn't get cold. It was a bit of a futile effort.
He sat around for an hour waiting for the family company to send a criminal defense attorney. Then came the questions. By the fifth time he was asked what killed Feferi, he was tempted to cry. Once again, he gave the same answer. "I didn't see the actual murder. The wound was weird, like a concentrated blast from a shaped incendiary. Eridan would've had seconds to set up an explosive on her chest without Sollux or Feferi resisting. No one was restrained when we came in. All he was holding that I saw was some kind of magic wand prop. I was trying to save her life, so I wasn't looking too closely, but I didn't see any shrapnel or anything. I honestly don't know how he did it. Unless he actually magicked her dead."
This interrogator gave a different response than the other two. "That's what the coroner said. Until we find the leftovers from the incendiaries, we have to hold you a bit longer. One of you five took them home, and you saw who. You said yourself you were there the entire time from the explosion to the arrival of first responders."
"...Oh man, I have to stay longer? Like the full three days?"
"If nothing else turns up and none of you admit to anything, that may be necessary."
John made sure to tone back his reaction. Three days was Bad. "Oh, okay. Please let me know if there's any other way I can help."
"Of course. Thank you for your cooperation."