You are now Rose Lalonde.
You live on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, right of the coast of Australia along with fifteen other kids your age; 16. It was quite easy to fit all of you comfortably in the house, once the unneeded clutter was clear from various rooms. You all have been living on this island for quite some time now and never once has it snowed. That is until today. It's winter of course, and the entire island is covered in a thick blanket of snow, though the water surrounding is still warm enough to have a beach party. It's strange, but you've seen much stranger in some of your favorite books.
You are currently sitting in your room, shared with the troll of common interest, Kanaya. She was the only one whom you could bear to share living space with. Though there is much static between you two, you would rather be here than stuck with some of the other choices. You've spent most of the day just staring outside of your window at the foreign site. You've read somewhere that it's not safe to stare directly at snow, but you ignore your better judgment for now.
You are now Gamzee Makara.
You are currently wondering what the fuck all this white shit is that suddenly appeared. You have been glued to a window for the better part of an hour, and every so often you would wonder to yourself if all these mother fucking miracles will ever cease to mystify you. You highly doubt it. This is as close as you've ever been to a real, solid miracle; only a thin sheet of glass separating you. You want to embrace it, make yourself one. That would be mother fucking amazing.
You don't bother putting on a coat or mittens, or even putting on a hat. That is, if you even knew what any of these things were. Back on your home planet, Alternia, there was no need to keep cozy against cold weather, because there was none. You rush outside, disturbing the smooth and even blanket that lie upon the ground, digging a path through it with your feet. This shit was mother fucking cold! It soaked your polka-dotted pants all the way up to the knee, and sent shivers through your body. You might have cared more if you weren't so fucking high right now.
You are once again, Rose Lalonde.
What is that crazy Juggalo doing now? You watch as he romps through the snow like some St. Bernard puppy, then falls flat on his back, causing puffs of snow to drift up in massive swirls. You've told yourself that you would go outside, maybe sit down somewhere and read a nice book in the comfort of the great outdoors, but you haven't done that yet. Nothing is stopping you; you just haven't gotten around to it yet. So now the stoned troll clown is making a mess of the beautiful scene you were gazing upon. Now what will you stare at aimlessly?
You decide to just stare at him, aimlessly of course. Any troll would make a huge contrast against the snow, with their grey skin, black hair, and colorful wardrobe. You just find Gamzee's hair to be just a bit fascinating. It was long and messy, sticking up in every possible direction, like he'd never encountered a brush before, and he probably hadn't. It was amazing that his horns weren't snarled in the tangled mess. And the way he was lying, arms out to his side, legs spread, head lifted toward the sky. Almost as if he was absorbing the snow into his very being. Well, his clothes were absorbing it. He was damp from hair to toes, if trolls have toes.
It might have been your own fault that the trolls didn't know about proper winter attire. The humans were in charge of helping the trolls adapt to Earth life, and you all figured that the temperature would never drop below 80 degrees, so there would be no need to introduce winter clothing to them. Just look how wrong you were. Very wrong. You figure it is your responsibility to make sure he does not fall ill do to your lack of foresight. Time to go rescue an idiot.
Believe it or not, you are now Gamzee Makara.
You are freezing your grey ass off in this damn snow, but you don't care because you are smack dab in the middle of the greatest fucking miracle you've ever laid your eyes upon. You are quite stoned due to various foliage found on the island that, if consumed, keeps you high and mighty for hours. It's better for everyone if you keep your high.
You remember when you all first arrived on the island. You were about as sober as the snow surrounding you now, and you made everyone's life a living hell. Nearly beating the shit out of Equius, Nepeta, and Tavros because of a few misunderstandings, you were forced to share a room with Karkat. He's the only mother fucker who would put up with you. He's your best friend.
You look up at the sky, watching as snowflakes fall around you. It's a fucking miracle if you've ever seen one. Suddenly you hear footsteps, crunchy and damn loud due to the snow. Someone else has come to join the festivities of miracle watching.
"Gamzee, get up. I'm sure you're freezing down there." Rose Lalonde says, dressed in her signature pink winter gear.
"What the mother fuck is up, sister?" You say, tilting your head back slightly so you can look at her, albeit upside down. You grin a sharp toothed grin and pat the snow beside you, offering her a nice seat.
Exactly as you'd expect, you are now Rose Lalonde.
You look at the spot Gamzee Makara offered to you intently. You were planning to come outside anyway. Though your good book is inside of the house.
"Won't you come inside?" You ask again; glancing back at the house, then back down at him.
"And miss being out here to welcome all these miracle eggs into the world, hell no." He says smoothly, pointing up at the sky.
Obviously you can't reason with a person who is high. If you can't beat them, join them. You sigh dramatically and sit down, pulling your legs into a criss-cross position, and look up at the sky.
"Miracle eggs?" Do you mean the snowflakes?" You ask, holding out your hand and letting a few fall into your palm.
"Whatever, sister. They're just mother fucking amazing." He sighs and closes his eyes, obviously enjoying himself. Trolls were strange creatures, you must remind yourself to write a document about their culture and behavior. You turn your gaze to Gamzee and meet his bright yellow eyes. He was smiling.
"See, they like you." He reaches up and pets your hair. The gesture was interesting in its own way, but not unpleasant.
You are… Gamzee Makara.
This sister was okay, she gets you. She was a good listener and didn't try to saw your ass off for nearly killing a few people, unlike her roommate Kanaya. She was alright.
"Aren't you cold?" She muttered. Your eyes fall lazily in her direction, and once again you smile.
"Nah, sister. I'm fucking chill." You chuckle, reaching your long arms up toward the sky. "I could lay down some sick rhymes, I'm so chill. Care to join me?"
"No thank you, Gamzee." She sighed.
"That's cool."
"Your hair. Do you ever brush it?"
"What's a brush?"
"Never mind."
Speaking of your hair, it must be covered in all the miracle eggs by now. You'll let them nest there and soon they'll hatch into miracle grubs and you'll have your own family of mother fucking miracles. You sit up and wrap your arms around yourself. Damn it was cold.
"Here, you're covered in snow." Rose says, reaching up and brushing her hand over your head. She could brush away all the snow she wanted, but shit would go down if she touched your family.
You are Rose Lalonde, once again.
You stare at your hand in complete and utter shock. How is this possible? Your hand went right through his hair without a snag or tangle to get caught in. How could this be? You find yourself looking back and forth between your hand and his hair. This broke all the rules.
"What do you do to your hair?" She asked blankly.
"Hatch eggs." He sighed, reaching up to pet his hair softly.
"What…?"
"Well fuck, I only started today."
You arch your eyebrow incredulously. Maybe he was crazy.
"But before today, nothing. Kind of hard to do anything with what you can't fucking see, don't you think?" He looked up, raising his eyebrows and straining. You guess Trolls have never heard of mirrors, or he's just off his rocker. Oh, how you want to psychoanalyze him, find out which wheels aren't turning in the right direction.
"I'd better get inside before the eggs get too mother fucking cold." He rose to his feet, swaying slightly. Then he offered you his hand.
You look at it for a moment, realizing that Trolls don't have finger prints. You'll file that tidbit away for later. You take his hand and rise to your feet. He was quite taller than you, about Dave's height if not taller. How tall did Trolls get? Note to self: Do research.