Sometimes Rufioh thinks about the past, and sometimes he thinks about the future.
Not exactly canon-compliant, just a drabble I wrote during English.
I don't own Homestuck.
I remembered the breeze one my face, the feel of the wind at my back and the sky above my wings. I remembered flying above this forest, hearing the feral cries of the wild lusii and seeing the treetops sway in the late autumn breeze. Far below me in a small clearing between trees I could see several of my old companions, other members of the lost weeaboos, playing together in the evening sun. I flew down and landed on a nearby stump, left from some ancient tree that had fallen years before.
I smiled sadly as they ran past, attention stolen away by some wandering hoofbeast; I had known that they would, yet some foolishly sentimental part of me hoped they would recognize their old friend. This was silly, they were nothing more than illusions conjured up from some old memory of a time long gone. Dream bubbles made everything seem so real again, so vivid. If I close my eyes I really might be back in the forest on Beforus, might really be able to run and crow and fly with my old friends again. Now all this was nothing more than a pleasant memory. I wondered idly what became of the lost weeaboos; of the group of runaway trolls who had taken me in as family and later as a leader. Were they still living there, away from the harsh realities of the world? Had they been discovered by the drones and eliminated? Drones or not, it really didn't matter. The time I spent with them was sweeps and sweeps ago. Whether the tribe had survived or not all of the trolls I had known would be long dead and gone.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like had I stayed, if I would be dead with them. Sometimes I wish I could die now instead of staying as a mockery of a ghost in this cursed game, and even more often I wish there had been no "game" at all. That I wasn't stuck in a dream bubble, waiting to go fight an evil lord of time with Meenah and those squishy pink aliens and the little shouty one. That life, or the afterlife, or whatever this was supposed to be would start making some inkling of sense. Then again, I try to remind myself of all the good things that had happened since the game began. I had a matesprit, a real one, unlike Damara. That alone was more than I ever could've gotten staying with the lost weeaboos. If the game had never happened I never would've broken it off with Damara, which also meant I never would've gotten beaten within an inch of my life and never would've had to go through that horrible robot horse body experience, but I guess things turned out for the best. After all, that robot horse is what made him fall in love with me. So it's alright.
Horuss has always been with me since, even when we weren't "together". He's never given up on me, not once, no matter what I've done to him or how badly I screwed up. Others tell me that I could have had any troll I wanted, they ask me why I settled for the weird freak who sweats to much and spends too much time thinking of horses. Yet for some reason I always wind up back with him, so much that I doubt I could have a serious relationship with someone new anymore. He scares me sometimes, with his complete faith in me, his idea of this permanence between us. The way he talks about forever as if he is perfectly content to stay in this dream bubble until the universe runs out. I, on the other hand, would give anything to go back, to my forest and my tribe, to be able to spread my wings and take to the skies again with the real wind behind my back and the real stars shining above me. It's impossible, as I said before, they were gone sweeps ago. I want something new though, I'm tired of the same old memories that are only as clear as you make them, the same places and people flittering by everyday but never solid, never real. Sometimes I think we won't work together, that we're too different, that we should end it for good. Then I think about being alone for the rest of eternity, of leaving him alone for the rest of eternity.
The thought makes me shudder, and the memory around me, of the forest and young trolls, has started to blur and distort, changing into another form all together. The canopy overhead solidifies into a domed wooden roof with branches becoming exposed beams, the trees themselves merge into wooden columns and chugging machines, boulders and underbrush transforming into sawhorses and piles of gears and loose materials. The stump underneath me loses its moss in the place of intricate carvings, shifting into a large hardwood workbench. By now the forest had gone completely, leaving me alone in Horuss' dimly lit workshop. I sighed, running my hand along the wood, toying with the little steambots and half-finished metal flutterbeasts that littered its surface. How he loved to tinker with things. Pictures of hoofbeasts were hung artfully around the room, and directly behind me above his workspace was a large almost-finished sketch of some grand ship or something. I reached up, running my fingers over the soft, supple leather, the intricate designs dutifully hand drawn into it outlining the precise details of the machine. It was beautiful.
As if on cue, I heard the soft creak of the workshop door behind me. Wings fluttering, I spun around. It's him, of course. He pauses for a moment, confused on walking in on his own memory, before he sees me. When he does, his whole being lights up and he rushes over with this big goofy smile on his face, stopping a few feet away and grinning bashfully. He's babbling something and scratching at his ponytail nervously, but I don't pay attention really, I'm too focused on how unbelievably modest he is, acting so shy in his own home. But I do cut him off abruptly, moving forward to take his chin in my hand and rub our noses together briefly before kissing him like it's the last time I'll get the chance. He startles at my sudden advance, before I feel his arms wrap around my neck. His goggle knock into my face, and I feel myself smile against his lips as I run my hand up to pull them off. I can see his eyes and I remember a time when they were yellow and blue, but the white is just as expressive. I lean my forehead against his and slide my eyes shut, wondering how long we can stay like this now that Meenah is back and preparing for war, with the battle looming just on just on the horizon. Frowning slightly, I pull him in for another kiss and decide I've done enough thinking for one day, and push reality from my mind.