The Psiioniic had been captured before most of his friends by those under the rule of Her Imperial Condescension, now kept prisoner as one to move the airship forwards through the air. He now answered as The Helmsman and would only respond to the name given. Being a slave for one who was the highest on the hemospectrum scale was really unfair to anyone who would be in his position. Or if anyone on land cared for his well-being, those beings would also think it unfair.
He had even forgotten if he knew anyone on land. There were only so few flashbacks that would only disappear as soon as he was demanded to move forward by the wires attached to his arms and legs. Most of the ones to control him were the few going down through his skull to demand it through his thinkpan. Often times he begged for it to stop, only to get tortured further each time she would aim her trident to him. It was the source of the airship's wires. And his body.
Many perigees passed by of this torture until the yellow-blooded troll was told to lower the airship back to the ground, which he had no choice but to obey.
Once the airship landed itself did the Helmsman dare to close his eyes with blood, sweat and tears dripping from his body. It was a disgusting sight to see, really. A few hours passed by until the wires released him to the ground, only for him to land face-first to the ground and trembling. Someone then going over to him, most likely one of her followers, to throw him off the airship.
"He's all yours now." Her Imperial Condescension told the one going over to the Helmsman before going back inside her airship to travel elsewhere. The Helmsman couldn't hear or see his savior as he was carried [or dragged, his body wouldn't let him know] his body twitching occasionally during the process.
"I'm so sorry...so motherfucking sorry..."
Perigees ago and dozens of violent outbursts passed, the Grand Highblood captured a yellow-blooded rebel. The very act spoke aloud held no significance, if it wasn't a yellow blooded rebel he has strange...he wouldn't say memories, but something of that nature, with. They were more like dreams, but dreams that he knew were not imagination. But he didn't begin seeing them until after he handed the blasphemer over to his former-moirail.
For nearly his entire life, the indigo blood held a close pale relationship with the highest and most powerful troll on all of Alternia. Unfortunately, she used him mostly as a bodyguard and a pet, and once she deemed him unworthy to hold that special place in her quadrants, he was left. Only socially though, as he still needed to obey her as an associate and ally. It hurt every time she chastised him through violent means and ordered him to carry out gruesome tasks, but being left by the only one that would bother reaching out to him was worse. Through all those times he culled someone out of fear of harm to himself and painted his walls in a panicked reaction to try and ward them off, she was there to tell him he did a good job, and it would be alright.
And now it's gone.
When he first began having the dreams, he thought perhaps it was just some odd reaction to the break up that occurred shortly before she left on her ship. But then they continued, with more and more detail telling him he's made a horrid mistake. That isn't just some lowblood heathen, that's his friend! That's his...well...he doesn't actually know. He just knows what he's done is his biggest regret.
It ended up taking more than a perigee to convince his former moirail to let him take him, and it was for the shameful reason of having no one else. Besides, he knew she would have no more use for him soon. So, standing before the grounded ship wearing black and indigo, he carefully lifted the Helmsman into his arms. What has he done...
"I'm so sorry..." He whispered while he made the journey back to his massive castle of a hive, getting the weak troll into his own respite block to hide him and heal him himself. By the time the other was alright, he had tended to his wounds and laid him down on the sleeping slab, and was currently getting out newer clothes for him. His own consisted of more casual wear since he didn't plan on leaving any time soon, wearing black harem pants and an indigo top that exposed his shoulder, abdomen, and back. But his long hair was less than tended to besides a few small braids intertwined throughout the inky waves. His eyes were focused on laying out clothes, face paint smudged from his sloppy attention to it during the night.
The Helmsman continued to only twitch in his unconscious state, too exhausted to open his eyes or even process words spoken to him. He was far beyond repair and the one who had imprisoned him knew that and it was for that one reason she appeared to be okay with dumping him to the dirt like the lowblood he was. Not to mention the slurs he'd spit out at her from time-to-time.
Yeah, The Helmsman was broken. Unstable, even. He could hardly do anything for the next few days of being healed other than the occasional shouts of pain or sentences that made no sense through his broken speech pattern and dry throat from screaming for all those perigees. He was pathetic and was told he earned that title by the way he was treated on the ship.
No. He was the ship. He was attached to the whole thing. Controlling it. Being one with the ship.
A few long weeks, maybe even months, passed by until he finally opened his eyes and went to sit up only for his back to decide to shoot a powerful burst of pain throughout his body. "FGNUKHK!" The Helmsman cried out and lay back down again, grabbing at his hair before staring at his arms. Wait. They weren't attached to anything. And he didn't feel any wires connecting him to anything.
Question now was... where was he? It took a while of staring into space to see the troll in front of him and to register who the troll was before trying to get away. Oh yes, he remembered getting captured and shouted at and sold off to be attached to a ship as a tool. And, unfortunately, The Helmsman had backed up too far and hit his head and fell right off whatever he was on to land on his back. "FNGHUCKIGN... FFFF..."
These weeks have been rather...difficult. He's tried to hide the fact he's working so hard to heal the poor troll, but with those screams (that scared the almighty shit out of him when they first started happening) it was hard for anyone to ignore. Now it was just routine to see the Highblood hurry back to his respite block to check on a damaged lowblood, change his bandages, give him medication, and even keep up his hygiene.
But the shout he heard today was different, making him jump in surprise and turn around to see him struggle with waking up. Oh my...Seems he has some new difficulties to work through. "Shhh, no more moving there, brother. You got such a fucked up state you ain't moving this spot for a long motherfucking time," he said in a soft voice he seldom used. It was interesting how now without the Condesce to control him, he's been allowing himself freedoms he didn't have before, such as wearing what he wants, talking like he wants instead of the demanded gruff shout she seemed to think was better than his actual smooth voice that sounded androgynous, but was low. She liked scary better. Much like she liked him covering his muscular, yet androgynous body with heavy armor. It was terrible.
"RELAX, I ain't gonna hurt you. No one is," he scowled to nobody in a protective manner. No one is laying a finger on him. Setting him down again, he kept his hand on his chest to keep him there. "Shh, HEY. She ain't here, and you ain't gonna get hurt. Can you hear me at all? Still understand me enough so I can explain? Nod if you can."
He expected there to be quite a bit of damage, and he knew he would never be the same mentally, but anything was better than being hooked up to wires for perigees at a time.
He squirmed and twitched as he was picked up. No fucking way was he going to be enslaved again and especially since he had painful flashbacks from when he was captured. And how he was captured was painful. Chains and getting thrown to a hard surface for the Grand Highblood to throw him to the Condesce as a tool. Or maybe a weapon? Fuck if he knew right now with his think pan fried to the point he still questioned things and still continued to know that there weren't ever going to be answered.
Still in his burnt suit, he gave up on squirming to only stare up at The Grand Highblood's hand that was on his chest, his bloodpumper pounding in his chest with his eyes wide with fear. And pain considering the hand was large and his chest was still in pain. Only in physical pain and nothing else, really.
It took The Helmsman a few long and twitchy minutes and another couple of minutes to try and nod. Even nodding was a difficult task and could end up confusing anyone by the way it moved up down sideways and everywhere else except where he wanted it to go and what he wanted it to do. Fuck, he really was broken, wasn't he? So many things he wanted to say, but couldn't even nod or talk or move right.
He looked so helpless, and it pained him to know a lot of it was his fault. He was so rough with him when capturing him, not knowing the gravity of what he was doing or why she wanted him, he didn't think that he would be hurt this much, and he didn't know this troll meant so much to him when they didn't even properly meet.
He took his hand off his chest, sighing softly. "..This is all my fucking fault. I shouldn't have tossed you to her..." It took him another moment to gather his thoughts and begin explaining himself. "I didn't know why she wanted you, all those perigees ago. I just followed a motherfucking order and went to getting a complete on my mission. After you went to her, I started having all these out of any ordinary dreams with you in them. All got you being all smiling and shit...I still don't really get it. They didn't seem like they're really us, but...I feel like they were.." He was getting off topic, and noticed when he looked at the other.
"Point of the motherfucking matter is sending you to her is my biggest regret in my damn life. I'm gonna heal you up if it takes me eternity, alright? Medicine I'm giving you should help you up and function. Ain't gonna fix this until...maybe a perigee from now though. But it will! You're gonna be fine, got it?" Even if it takes the rest of his life, Highblood feels he needs to at least try and help. Help him sit up eventually, help him with moving, and talking. Make it up to him.
He only stared at him, blinking from time to time as he tried to make sense of whatever he was being told. Hell, he wasn't sure if he knew what a smile was and never heard of any highblood taking care of a lowblood. Especially from The Grand Highblood himself because all he knew was death. And torture. Well, obviously he knew what torture was from the last long perigees in his life. At times, Helmsman begged for his demise, which he knew the world wouldn't let him have it.
Turning his head away from Highblood, he began twitching his head and didn't even know if he was nodding or shaking his head. Saying that he'll be fine was what she had said too as she tortured him. "Ngh..." Helmsman started and shut his eyes tight before he brought his hands up to his face to block some things out. Maybe just everything that was happening. Yeah, none of this was real. Not really. No, this was probably some fucked up dream about being ripped from the wires and being brought to the real world.
If this was even real these days. "Reral?" Wow, he actually almost said the right word there, didn't he? No, not really right. There was still a fuckton of a lot more work to do.
When he could see the other was trying to say something, his eyes were on his mouth to maybe try and make it out. But when all that came out was perhaps a variation of a word, he brought a hand up to comfortingly rub the other's arm. Funny, his touch was very gentle when he wanted to be. He knew this Helmsman was damaged, and he knew he was trying, but he also knew he can't fix it immediately. He's already considered using chucklevoodoos, but he knew those had the potential to damage his mind even more than it already was. It may even damage his own.
"Shhh, just rest for now. That's all you can really do..." For now. But Highblood had faith he could heal his friend he did not know in the slightest why he believed he was his friend so strongly, and he would try his damn hardest.
Highblood got up only to grab the clothes he'd gathered for the other, a yellow and black striped shirt and black pants that were comfortable and baggy. Pajamas really, but that's all he needed. He's done this a few times when the other was more or less asleep, so he didn't think anything of it as he sat on the edge of the sleeping slab and began to remove his burned jumpsuit with a black expression.
When Highblood rubbed his arm, he could only shrink away from the touch. "Hwhy yuo tuohcing me?" He asked and swallowed heavily with a few fierce coughs. His breathing tube was hurt and dry and it was slightly difficult for him to try talking, even to breathe sometimes. It hurt so bad. What did he used to have way back then? When he was more...alive. He remembered it was cold and he was able to drink it. Started with a 'W', if he remembered correctly. Which he wasn't sure his memories were right anymore.
And then he was told to rest. Rest? How could he rest safely if he still couldn't process everything and anything that was happening? How could he rest if his everything was in pain? How could he rest if...oh fuck, the thinkpan pains again. The Helmsman let out a groan and put his hands over his head to try and rub it away now that he had some sort of control over his body limbs now.
He pulled his hands away and opened his eyes to see that Highblood was trying to remove his jumpsuit and tried moving away from the touches. Fuck that, he wasn't going to get stripped by the one who threw him to the one with the trident, he couldn't remember names now really. Because who knew if he had different intentions for him and his body? Fuck no...not even the yellow and black could even really. Wait, those looked familiar. Beginning to have a small flashback, he let out a cry of pain and held at his head. Those used to be his clothes, right?
Oh, he had water at the ready for him. It was actually what he was going to grab next. Seeing his reaction to his touch, it hurt him. He knew the other didn't understand what he felt in those dreams or even what happened in those dreams, but Highblood would try regardless. He was special to him. Friends.
"You need new clothes," he said simply, giving a soft pap to his cheek when he appeared to be having quite the pan-ache. It must be from seeing the clothes, or being undressed. "Nah, see? Just gotta get these on you, then I'll be giving you all the water you can drink," he forced a small smile and held up the clothing for a moment, resuming with stripping him of the torn, burned jumpsuit. If he struggled, Highblood did his best to restrain him without hurting him, just to get the suit off and replace it with more comfortable clothing.
Hey, he succeeded.
After that task was completed, he stood again to grab a large pitcher of water, cold and chilled. Pouring some into a glass, he helped the other lift his head to drink. "Drink. Your throat probably hurts." The tone of his voice was so calm and collected, but remembering their happy interactions of his dreams made this sight heartwrenching. He hopes he can make him understand he just wants to help him.
Every time he was touched, he either squirmed or shrunk back with his eyes shut nice and tight. Once the jumpsuit was off, there was basically nothing but permanent burn marks from the waist down and burn marks up his arms from the pits of his arms. And they still hurt, even now. When he received a pap to his cheek, however, he opened up his blue eye to stare at him while continuing to tremble silently.
Once the clothes were on, he instantly hugged himself as some sort of comfort as he looked up at Highblood yet again. The water was then brought over and both eyes widened greatly as he licked his lips with the double tongue he owned.
That shit looked good. Amazing, really.
Although his body continued twitching, he managed to open his mouth to basically want to chug down each bit of water that touched his lips and it felt absolutely amazing, to say the least. That is until he coughed out dried blood from using his throat so much during the perigees of torture and endless screaming and crying and there goes the heavy pounding in his think pan again, causing him to shout out gibberish, holding his head.
He was relieved to say the least when he was actually able to drink and took the water welcomingly, but his relief faded away as he spit up blood and Highblood pulled the glass away from his mouth. He'll try again to give him water soon enough since he needs it, but for now that was enough.
"Hey, don't be troubling now.." He said in a soft tone while sitting beside him again, hands going to his cheeks to pap. He's had his fair share of headaches, but he knew they were nothing compared to his. He went through more trauma and torture than Highblood ever has, and all the young ruler could do is try to make it stop. So far, he thinks it may be working some.
"I'm gonna be trying to find some shit to help that noggin' of yours, brother. And something to numb your throat, you need that water and it ain't motherfucking going down right," he said absentmindedly as the paps continued. This felt right. In his former moirallegiance, there was no aspect that was healthy about it. She was controlling, he was unstable. But this, following what he saw in his dreams, felt wonderful.
He shook his head rapidly as he began to try and get away from the papping, though gave up and decided to slowly shut his eyes. Okay, maybe this was feeling a little better, but it couldn't stop all the pain as a few silent yellow tears slid down his cheeks. It couldn't go away completely. It most likely never would vanish completely. He really was quite beyond repair...but this was helping a little even though his body kept its twitching going.
"Ihk..." he mumbled with an attempt at a nod, though his head would only twitch in random directions no matter how hard he'd try to get out a nod. That, of course, made him upset with himself and he growled, twitching a little more as he reached his hands up to try and basically rip his own hair out.
"HSONAFCUK! STHUPDID!" Helmsman blurted out and began hitting his head now instead of tearing his hair apart. He still wasn't himself and was beating himself up over what few flashbacks he'd sometimes have. Right now, he saw the color red. Just the color. But he didn't know what it meant, but knew it was important, just not sure why and how.
The pulling at his hair startled him, but the sudden shout did more. His hair puffed out and his eyes widened, but his reaction was to first guide those dangerous hands away from himself. Helmsman will never get better if he causes more damage, so he stuck with taking his hands in his larger ones and keeping them immobile. "Hey, hey, shhhh. You ain't stupid. Motherfucker if anyone is, I am for capturing you in the first place. Focus here, brother. You just real hurt now is all. You'll get better."
Red. He knew it well.
However, his perigees spent thinking and pondering his dreams brought him to a revelation, that if he wants to save Helmsman, he shouldn't turn his back and execute his friends. He knows she wants to, but his sudden connection with her dying battery made him realize he can't let it happen.
Maybe he'll find him himself, allow them to hide here. Or, at least visit their friend here someday, but when he's well enough to talk more and sit up more or less on his own. That day will come slowly, but it will come. He's faithful it needs to.
When Highblood took his hands, he tried squirming and tried getting them free from his grip. When that failed, he sighed and looked down at himself while twitching. His violent twitches only worsened as he tried thinking about the color red. What did it even mean to him?
And now two types of green. One of them took care of the red and yellow. And the other green mixed with the red. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him for not knowing what the colors meant to him.
"Drd...G...grg... R...Gr... Rg!" Helmsman blurted out and moved his hands around again in Highblood's larger hands, coughing as he continued moving about like a first born wriggler. Which he somewhat was, really. He might as well be a wriggler with his current mental state.
"YGRG!" He called out as he kept squirming, although a little more violently. Yeah, he hated not remembering anything and it was quite frustrating that he was useless. Even more so when he was sobbing over it.
This squirming was troubling him. He didn't want to hurt the other in any way, and he didn't want to force rest on him. Unfortunately, that may be what this comes to if this yellowblood doesn't relax. He understands the lack of functioning was a struggle and wasn't his fault, but not being able to resolve it was frustrating.
How could he calm him down...
It occurred to him he could do one thing. Something he's tried forgetting about for so long. Multiple sweeps ago, when the Helmsman's dear mutant friend was just beginning his preaching to the citizens in the streets, it was filled with speeches and songs of peace. When Highblood was running about trying to get a break from the harsh teachings of his instructors, his ears caught the sound of one of these songs. It was soft...soothing, and...entrancing...From him.
As the memory of the song was coming back to him, he could only imagine that this man below him had to have heard of it. They were best friends, were they not? He had to have been sung to by that Signless troll many times. And seeing as he had no other option outside of causing more damage, Highblood sighed softly. Now that song seemed clear as day.
When he began singing, he didn't actually sing. Instead, he hummed the tune as a start, not feeling overly comfortable singing, and certainly not a song from him.
Although Helmsman continued to ramble on nonsense, though the letters 'L', 'R', and two 'G's were repetitive. He wasn't sure why he was saying those letters, but they all seemed to mean something to him. At to what, he wasn't sure. All he knew was it meant something. Why were they so important?
"GRL...RGLGGG! LGRGGGG!" He shouted as he struggled further, pausing as he heard the tune and looked up at the other troll. Sure, he still struggled, but they were more like twitches. Nothing major or anything to worry much about.
"S...Sigss... R..." He frowned and stared vacantly into nothingness while a few flashes of memory began shooting through his mind.
Shutting his eyes tight with a choked out sob, fists closing in on themselves as yellow tears went down his cheeks. The memory was of a troll on grey trying to grab him. Trying to save him from being taken. Another troll, she was female, tried to do the same thing. Both were pushed away. Another troll with sharp things on her fingers, claws, tried to also save him. She was pushed away as well. The one with claws seemed to have a love for the grey troll.
"D...Dage?" He panted while he opened his eyes to stare at the troll in front of him as he wondered if he was truly safe.
Seeing his reaction to the humming broke him so terribly. Huh. Even the thought of him feeling so much sadness for a lowblood was absurd out of context, but those dreams gave him knowledge and experience that made seeing him cry utterly painful. He felt his hands ball up within his own that still held them, each tear streaking down his face sending a blow of pity through Highblood's chest.
But he continued humming as much as he could, lessening the grip on his hands to a leisurely hold. His jumbled words confused him, but he tried his hardest to make them out.
"You're alright now.." He said in a pause with the humming, only stopping to speak quietly. "I'm- I'm gonna fix everything. You're motherfucking safe now, I promise..." That being said, he stayed hovering over him and making sure he didn't struggle so much as to hurt himself, humming the tune.
That is, until he finally parted his lips and began singing softly. His voice was not like Signless', not at all, but it carried a slightly shaky tone that was still full of care and hope for him to be calm. For everything to be calm, and peaceful.
With a somewhat relaxed nod, he let out a sigh and shut his eyes. "G...Gr...eem... N... R... de?" He stuttered as he tried getting out the words of his memories. Or, well, the more important things. "R...G?" He started again and stopped as the familiar song started.
Yeah, he was safe. Safe. This was a peaceful place now. Peaceful and safe. The song also made him feel tired now as well. But he couldn't sleep, no. No more sleeping right now. For all he knew, Highblood could be lying to him and have other intentions for him and be trying to have him think he was safe and going to be fixed. Question now was if he even was fixable. Or even worth fixing by this point.
"N...No girt?" Helmsman asked with a heavy gulp as a few more tears slid slowly down his cheeks while he now began to tremble. He was both cold and still somewhat afraid.
His singing quieted down only to listen closely to his mumblings, realizing he could let go of his hands. However, he only let go of one to keep him secure still, the now free hand beginning to wipe away his tears. "No...girl? Hurt? No hurt?" He couldn't quite make it out.
"Ain't no hurt," he said softly before beginning to sing again, moving so he wasn't on top of him and instead sat beside him, one hand lightly cupping his cheek and the other holding his twitching hand. He could tell with the calmer state, he was getting better at articulating, especially for the first day awake. He expected him to mostly still be mumbling unintelligibly for a couple days after, so this was rather fantastic.
"I'm gonna keep you safe," he said in between humming small parts, feeling his blood pumper ache terribly. Oh, why did the Messiahs curse him with this connection? This pull he barely knew how to manage?
He moved his head again, trying to nod and growled at himself in self-hatred. Why couldn't he move his body right? With that thought, he went back to rambling nonsense and trying to squirm yet again in the single hand holding onto his own. Well, that lasted rather long. "Nmggg..." he panted and started hitting at the hand on his cheek while his body continued to move around.
Geez, was there ever going to be a moment he'd ever be truly calm? Apparently not by the speed his blood pumper was going at. He was terrified again. Where even was he right now? He had on yellow and black clothes that weren't his suit... That's right, the part of his think pan that was supposed to remember things was also pretty long gone.
"Jhnioghevag!" Helmsman shouted as he still twitched and tried to move away from the hand on his cheek while his eyes and horns sparked weakly.
Once he began to see the awareness of the situation leave the other's eyes, Highblood was crushed. His mind was in horrible condition, and doing that of course needed to remind him. He won't remember so much.
He wasn't afraid of the sparks occurring between his horns and at his eyes. They were so close to his hand, but he needed a moment to stay composed. Moving his hand away, he went back to keeping his hands away from himself and humming, albeit weakly. A voice in his head reminded him this would be a hard task, not even to heal him, but to protect himself from anyone that may find out about his down-low plan to care for this Helmsman. It won't be easy, and moments like this will probably be frequent. He needs to get used to it now.
Hopefully, later on he can get him to at least start remembering things and to speak a few words at a time. He wants to really meet his long-time, but unfamiliar friend.