Karkat
It's been a week since he's started his job as the mutant blooded member of the Zodiac. He's finally managed to get to the point of uncomfortable acceptance at what he has to do each day. Wake up and perform shitty morning tasks, get a small lunch break and then perform even more shitty tasks in the form of amusement to the Queen, ending with a killing show of the same person twelve times.
Yep. Casual, uncomfortable, nerve wracking and stomach hacking acceptance.
He sits at the rounded table in the mediocre lounge room where everyone can convene and eat their meals in supposed peace. A bowl of some un-named mush sits in front of him with a small metal spoon sticking out of it. He pushes it around but doesn't really want to try stomaching it just yet. He's still feeling sick from last night's….brutal display.
A shudder runs through him when he remembers watching from the sideline as trolls the exact same age as him kill another member of their Fooldom in a wild frenzy.
A large yet skinny hand clamps down on his shoulder and he jumps. The stranger plops down into the seat next to him and lazily stretches out. He turns to look at his colleague, Gamzee Makara. The troll comes from a line of fierce highbloods, and yet he seems to be anything but fierce, when he isn't killing that is. The other boy happened to have a problem with sopor and it usually makes him unbelievably relaxed and somewhat of a moron in his opinion. Then again usually everyone he meets ends up with some form of moronic label or other.
"How you doin' bro? Still havin' problems adjusting to the system?" Gamzee eyes the relatively untouched food and then Karkat. He shrugs and goes back to staring at the grey concoction. He tries to avoid conversing with Gamzee as much as he can, finding that usually one way or another the doped up clown would end up pissing him off.
More people start to filter into the room. "Yeah and you haven't? Geez TC, give the dude a break."
The speaker, a relatively decent guy named Sollux Captor, sits down in the seat on the other side of him and sighs. More chairs slide across the stone floor and others take their seats.
"Was just tryna help a brother out is all," The Makara is no doubt shrugging like he always does. Karkat closes his eyes so he can roll them. If this turns into another discussion about how I'm in need of a miracle then Thirteen's not going to be the only person I kill today.
He freezes at the thought he just had. It makes him feel weak at how easily it had come to him. And then a rush of guilt overwhelms him. How can he just come to terms with killing Thirteen? God that isn't even her name!
Karkat suddenly pushes the bowl away from him, any thought or possible interest in eating gone. He feels sick. Pinching the bridge of his nose he leans forward and shuts his eyes. In all honesty he's never been much of one to withstand the sight of blood, let alone killing another troll. And to be expected to do this day after day for nearly the rest of his life is like putting a large crack in his thinkpan.
How is it Thirteen has been able to stand it? How long has she been doing this? For how long does she have to keep doing this?
"What are you thinking about Karkles? It's making you smell angsty and let me tell you, that's not a pretty smell," He jumps when someone crashes into him, giggling like they'd just told him the damn near funniest joke ever. Karkat turns around and is faced with the shit eating grin of none other than Terezi Pyrope, the Teal blooded Zodiac member.
"Karbro's still havin' problems settling into the job," Gamzee supplies.
A laugh definitely more annoying than Terezi's and less pleasing to the ears sounds to his right and he looks over to glare at Vriska "Spider-Bitch" Serket. She throws him a wink over her shoulder, flipping her hair dramatically like she thinks she's the shit. His glare turns into a full blown glower and he returns to staring at the table again. Great. Just what he fucking needs, the highbloods thinking he's a useless wimp.
Everyone starts chattering at once to try and "help" him.
"You should definitely talk about what's bothering you, I know it works really well fur Equihiss and me. Hey why don't we all take today's break to help out Karkitty?" He looks up to send his scathing glare at the residential Olive blood, Nepeta Leijon. She simply grins at him with her cat lips curling smugly over her rounded face. Beside her, the friend in question actually named Equius, nods his head in agreement.
"A feelings jam? Excellent motherfucking idea lil' sister," Gamzee claps his hands together and rubs them in anticipation, sitting upright and scooting closer to the table as if it'll help him get in better on the action. The troll next to him with some iconic Bullfairy horns, Tavros Nitram, nods encouragingly and says something along the lines of building self-confidence if that's what he's lacking.
"Boooring," Vriska makes some snoring noises and finally makes her move to come join them at the table. She sits down and leans one arm over the chair, taking her mug of whatever-the-fuck (probably poison or some shit, don't spiders eat stuff like that for three square meals a day?) and rewarding herself with a generous sip before giving him a sly and pointed glance. "Newbie ass-rookie just needs to get over the fact that he's gonna have to kill that chick for the rest of his life."
"So it's Thirteen then? Don't even bother wasting your time thinking about her, she's just a nobody," Karkat has to resist the urge to bite his hand when the Violet blooded douche of the motherfucking century's voice accosts his hearing system. Instead he settles for burying his fists into his eyes and hoping he gets lucky enough to go blind so that he might not ever have to see those ridiculous hipster frames which sit on the face of Eridan Ampora.
If I walk out of this room without having killed myself then I'll owe Gamzee one chance to give me a sermon about miracles without interrupting.
"Guys you're just making his teen angst smell even worse, shut uuuppp!" Terezi groans and leans harder against his back, turning into a full body of dead-fucking-weight. He gives up and just faceplants onto the table, adding his ornery groans to the mix.
There's the sound of something smacking with muffled sounds onto something dense and Eridan starts to whine. A perky yet quiet voice tells him to shut his blow hole or else there'll be more where that came from.
"Karkat," He responds with a moan that sounds very similar to a 'fuck off'. Now Kanaya's in on it too, great. Just what he needs to add to this pain developing in the back of his head. Maybe he should try and build it a town there, see how that goes, name it Migraine Nation or some shit like that.
Kanaya sighs. "Karkat, I must implore that you speak with us just a little. It'll affect your work if you continue on like this."
He inhales deeply and holds his breath. It helps him relax a little as he slowly deflates, leading to him sitting up and pretty much de-throning Terezi off of him.
"What do you guys know about Thirteen?"
And then the crowd goes quiet. He stares at each of them in turn and watches as they squirm uncomfortably. Either they knew something or they only knew the basics like him, thus rendering it a question which he won't receive a satisfiable answer to.
"Well, I heard from Meenah that we're her third generation of Zodiac since she's been imprisoned," Feferi mumbles, which is slightly uncharacteristic for her considering that she's usually one of the worst chatterboxes ever. He puts an insane amount of intensity into his stare in hopes that she'll cave and tell him more.
"Aranea once mentioned to me that she had a Matesprite, and that she traded her own life to keep them safe. Boy did that plan end up backfiring on her," Vriska chuckles lightly before diving in once more to drink from her mug.
Eridan chances speaking again, this time actually providing something useful. "Her sentence is forever. A pity since it appears she can never die. I mean, she doesn't even look like she's aged beyond 24 sweeps so she's immortal in more ways than one."
"She's, um, no longer allowed to bear a symbol like, uh, us," Tavros pipes in.
Kanaya leans forward, lacing her fingers together and then resting her chin atop them. "If any of you have bothered to notice she's quite observant, even for someone so dead on the inside. If she was actually allowed to fight back, rather than simply just defend until we catch her off guard, then I don't have a doubt she'd beat all of us at once without even batting an eye."
"Ha! Don't make me laugh Kanaya, she'd rather submit to someone's will and die like a peasant time and time again over fighting us," Vriska snorts and slams her mug down onto the table, getting up to walk around a bit. On her way she pushes Tavros's head down none too gently or subtly.
"Well since AA isn't here I'm just gonna speak her mind cause I know what she'd say," Sollux clears his throat and takes on an almost feminine monotone voice. Including the lisp. "She's a living corpse that's reduced to nothing more than a doll. It's how she views herself so we should do the same and take no interest in her, though I would like to study her if possible at one point or another."
Vriska can be heard muttering a curse or two under her breath about the missing person, AA. (A.K-dot-fucking-A Aradia Megido.) He couldn't care less about the differences between the two at the moment though.
Sollux keeps talking, though from his point of view. "Personally you shouldn't get invested with her KK. Like GA said, it'll affect your job, and this is the last job you wanna fuck up on."
He rolls his eyes. Like he didn't know that already. If he fucks up one too many times then he'll end up deader than a doornail. It's the same old news as always.
"Hate to cut this lovely session dealing with your mixed feelings about a better off dead troll short, but the break's nearing its end and we've gotta draw lots before that happens," Vriska shoves her way between him and Gamzee, her hand full of sticks for the lot. He sighs and reaches forward to take one. Everyone else does the same.
When he opens his hand he nearly swears out loud. In his hand lies the lot with a clear tip. Great. Abso-fucking-lutely great! Of all the most asinine things to have happened within this day this has to be it. It's gotta be the topper to his figurative cake. God damn what does the universe have against him?
Vriska grins while others groan at his bad luck. "Maybe you can get her to talk again, since you seem to be the exception to her otherwise permanent silence."
"Fuck off," he spits. Vriska sticks her tongue out and he stands up, clenching his fists tightly at his sides before turning to storm out of the room.
He hesitates, standing in front of the barred cell door. He doesn't know if he can stand the weight of having to be the one to deliver her to hell today. Maybe he should have asked a different question during their break. Something along the lines of how the fuck did they drown out this insane guilt? It's crazy, roiling like a turbulent storm in his stomach already making him feel sick again.
Shakily he reaches for his keys and picks out the one that'll unlock everything. The metal of the iron bars screeches in protest as he drags them over the stone floor, and he grits his teeth wishing he could bite something to relieve him of this annoyance. The wooden door is much better, sounding like heavy sandpaper running over the stone instead. His shoulders slump when he sees the second set of iron bars however.
The light from a high window behind him filters into the room and lights it somewhat easily. It's still dim and he has to squint to see better, but it's not hard to make much out because of how small the space is. Three walls run high above him, no window in this room but for the thin slot on the wood door. He can make out faint black marks on the walls and he wonders what those could be. Finally his gaze rests on the hay bed with a crappy grey blanket on top. Thirteen sits on it watching him just as he watches her.
Karkat reaches out and grasps the iron bars with one hand, placing the key in the lock and turning it with the other. It clicks, but he doesn't open the door. Thirteen stands up expectantly, but wavers in slight confusion. Quickly he gets over it and swings the iron barred door open.
Thirteen walks out light on her feet. He can't help but notice she hardly makes a sound. She passes close to him, making him jump and remember that he should have moved out of the way. The she-troll holds out her hands and waits for him again. He stares at the shackles around her wrists, a deep smoke-grey color, and he wonders when it is she was forced to wear them all the time in order to cut back on having to take them off and on again each day. She shifts and so does the shackle just a little bit. The skin underneath is a sickly grey, like stormy skies that aren't quite dark enough just yet. It's like an eternal bruise, a scar.
Thirteen clears her throat and he looks down, fumbling with the rope on his belt. Carefully he slides it through the loops on the underside of her wrists and ties a knot, binding her hands closer together. She turns to go and he does the same.
Though he doesn't want to, and he really shouldn't be doing it anyways, he can't help but pay attention to her. Thirteen is like a ghost, to him. Her walk is tranquil, smooth and effective. She's tread these halls so many times it's like she doesn't need to put any effort into it anymore. Eventually he finds that he's walking the same pace she is, even side to side with her. Her posture is firm, but lifeless. And like Kanaya had said, she's observant. Every time he looks he catches her eyes doing exactly the same as him.
It bothers him a little, the color of her eyes. He's never seen anything like it. They're a mixture of a lot of colors that do and don't exist. Sometimes he swears that they're even changing each time he looks away and back again. At first glance he had thought that they were completely clear, if not a bit on the silverish side. So far he's seen a multitude of different things. A milky pallor in the very center, waving out in different patterns with flecks of greys and clears weaving through it. There are miniscule dashes of gold, a drop of blue, swirls of pinks and purples. He even swears he sees a slash of red- his red in there. But when he blinks it's like those colors had never even been there in the first place.
Too soon and yet not soon enough the reach the Queen's court. He leads her to the center like he's seen before and unbinds her, backing away to his place in the Zodiac. But no matter how much he tries to shake it off, it's like her eyes still follow him, haunting like an echo.
Karkat swallows hard as bile rises in his throat.
He knows that each individual member of the Zodiac can be callous, but it still shocks him each time he has to watch this performance. It's practically his rude awakening at this point. That the people he works with, that he might be friends with at some point, are heartless at the end of the day.
Keeping one hand behind his back he uses the other to cover his mouth, as if that'd keep everything from coming up. Aradia, the last performance of the day, cracks her whip around Thirteen's neck, pulling hard and forcing the other woman to fall down, clawing (is she really doing that, or just going through the motions?) at her throat. Aradia reels her in and forces Thirteen to her knees. She stands behind the choking she-troll and grips the sides of her head, twisting harshly to the right. Thirteen falls over with her head pointing in an unnatural direction.
Aradia uncoils the whip from Thirteen's neck and turns to face the Queen with a bow. She then returns to her place beside him. Karkat avoids looking at her.
Slowly Thirteen jerks upright into a sitting position. He shudders as she fixes her head, gripping his hand more tightly over his mouth. When she finishes she stands up and bows to the Queen once more. The Queen waves her hand in dismissal, standing up and disappearing down a corridor. Karkat steps forward and untangles the cord from his belt loop. He runs through the motions of tying her up with lightly trembling hands.
Once again he leads her away, this time as a return trip. He refuses to look at her. He can't do it without seeing something about her mangled. He can't allow himself to get sick yet, so he does what he knows how to best- work his thoughts into a frenzy and get angry.
What screw is loose in the Queen's head that she thinks it's okay to punish someone different to die twelve times every single day? How can everyone just go along with it? Why does no one try to fight the system? It's been done before, hell it's still going on now! What's stopping them? What's stopping her?
He frowns. He did what Kanaya had said and watched how Thirteen fought-well at least defended since she isn't allowed to actually fight back- and he had seen a lot of repressed potential. Thirteen's smart, he can't deny that. She tracks movements like one tracks an irritating fly buzzing every which way, and it's like she just imprints them into her brain for a later date. She can overpower her opponent, if she suddenly stops playing the defense and turns to offense. So why doesn't she? Yeah sure she could die, but then she could just get back up again and keep pressing forward. He won't even put it past her to be someone who can lead a one man army and storm the castle.
They reach her cell in what seems like no time at all and he's pulling the cord away from her shackles. Thirteen walks away from him and into her cell like she has never left it. He shuts the first iron door and locks it. He grips the bars tightly and leans in, finally looking at her in the faded light of the night.
"Why the hell don't you fight back?" She shifts, startled that he has spoken to her. He leans in more, pressing his skin to the cold metal. Thirteen doesn't answer him.
Karkat growls lowly and pulls away, ready to just finish his job and leave. The silence is all the answer he needs to know. It seems like Vriska was right, she's just a compliant servant now. That conformation alone is enough to finally put himself at ease. Maybe he can actually put it behind him now, this strange need to find out about her. He pulls away and moves to shut the wooden door.
"I've been here for three hundred and fifty-two sweeps you know," He freezes with his hand grasping the frame of the door. Thirteen's voice is so raspy, like dragging stone against stone. "There was a point when I would have taken your question as a challenge and tried to do something about my predicament. But when your sentence is forever then those three hundred and fifty-two sweeps can wipe out a lot in your mindset."
His grip tightens on the door and he blinks rapidly. Of course… Time erases everything doesn't it? When you're expected to remain imprisoned forever then just how exactly do you keep a tight hold onto hope, when it's already such a fickle creature? His hand relaxes and slides off the door, hanging limp at his side. He's so fucking naive.
"You should go," she says quietly, jolting him back to reality. "You don't want to get caught talking with me, since it's forbidden. I would hate to see you lose because of me."
He looks back at her, a shaft of light falling on half of her face. For the first time he sees genuine emotion on her face. Bittersweet melancholy. In that moment he doesn't think of Thirteen as a ghost, or even as a living being. She's just a shell of herself.
And he pities her.
Karkat nods and turns away, prepared to shut the door again.
"Goodnight Vantas boy," The words come out of her like the wind passing through a crack in the wall, gentle as a cobweb drifting from its establishment, more electrifying than a bolt of lightning.
"Karkat," he responds. "My name's Karkat."
He could have sworn he saw a faint smile on her face.
"Goodnight, Karkat."
He shuts the wooden door, slowly taking away all the light in the little cell. Then he puts the second iron door in its place and locks it. For a moment he stands there, slightly dazed by what just happened. He turns to leave, shoving his hands in his pocket and throwing one last glance at the lonely cell.
"Goodnight Thirteen."