((Hey guys, thanks so much for the reviews. I'm really glad that you're enjoying this. So, here's the next part. Still kind of improvising the plot, however I would appreciate reviews again this time. And hey, who knows, if you really like this story, maybe pass it around? (:::);) Anywho, enjoy and thanks for reading! ))

2))

It is the next morning, and you are currently stumbling down the steps of your well-plotted hive. Your path leads you through large corridors coated in an elegant shade of white, through rooms, each with a distinctive theme, and into a common hall in its normal orderly state. Usually, you would now be looking around the room with pride and basking contently in the early sunlight of the day. However, today is not an ordinary day. Your head is still reeling from the night before. Something about that rancid environment must've gotten to you, because you feel like complete and utter crap. The slight darkening of your skin under your eyes deepens as you haul yourself into a chair, angling your head away from the sunlight and casting shadows across your sharpened features. Your breath rumbles in your throat as you lean to put your chin in your palm. Maybe you didn't feel so poor because of the club, but instead of what welcomed you when you walked into your hive. Seeing Vriska so incoherent from both alcohol and her latest boy toy to the point where you could've sworn she was speaking in solely the number "8" was hard enough to handle on a good day.

Your fingers curl to rub against your temples, slowly easing away the tension that had been pooling there. For the past few moments, your eyes have been closed, however now they inch open to allow you to drag your sensitive gaze along the vast counter top. You trace the intricate stone surface with a lazy pace, frowning into the palm of your hand. Your fingers drum the area between your upper lip and your nose as your gaze finally lands on the crumpled scrap you'd left lounging on the counter from the night before. The ink is smeared slightly - you'd clutched the note tight in your palm the moment you'd realized what it said. The only reason it is on the counter is because you feared you'd lose it over the course of the night.

Your lower teeth shift to chew on your upper lip. This Rose character had been interesting. You release your upper lip, dragging your teeth across the skin. Incredibly interesting. However...You turn your face into the source of the light outside, narrowing your eyes against a glare which you would normally welcome. However, she seemed a bit off. Her behaviour seemed almost as if she had planned it all out beforehand. Your hands drop into your lap, fingers fumbling together. Your gaze is locked upon the glare, and you, very unproductively, become distracted by the ambiguous shapes being produced against the back of your eyelids. Regretfully, you pry your lids open and skim your gaze blindly along the significantly dimmer features of the room you're in, finally landing with determination on the tattered slip of paper. You nod in resolution and, mimicking an anime you had seen (the characters were vampires, you simply couldn't resist), firmly hit your fist against your open palm, a tight expression on your face. You'd call her.

You pull yourself out of the chair, glancing outside, and then to the clock that hangs just beside the window. Your determination falters slightly. It's too early to call. You're naturally an early riser - there's just something so beautiful and perfect about the light of dawn that you simply must get up to see it each morning. Any instances that prevent you from viewing the day's new masterpiece, which bursts with hues of red, yellow, and even purple, can sour the rest of your waking hours. Your fingers languidly lift into the air, tracing delicate patterns against the shadows. You do this for several moments before starting slightly, shaking your head, and lurching into motion. You should probably go check on Vriska, as her boy toy-er, Tavros, had departed nearly an hour ago, and she hasn't stirred from her web yet.

The stairs creak surprisingly under your weight, causing a scowl to crease your features. You really don't want to have to do any house maintenance right now. As much as you normally would love to have the chance to demolish and redesign a completely new set of stairs, this swaying and turning design has always been a favorite of yours, as tedious and time-consuming as it is to climb. In a few places, the stairs actually cross over one another. The whole thing is really entangled to be perfectly honest. You don't exactly mind, though. You always seem to find a good deal of enjoyment from getting lost in the staircase and being able to appreciate the views of your house and its surrounding scenery from all different angles. It's a good fifteen minutes before you're on the second floor.

A soft humming builds in your throat as you shuffle to Vriska's door, and you realize with distaste that it is one of the of those irritating songs that sound much like a bunch of malfunctioning electronics. You think you've heard the name before...from Eridan. Yes, you recall proudly, it's called "glubstep". Your lips curl into a grin as you reach the outside of Vriska's door. She'd been staying at your hive for a few months now, since hers "accidentally" burned down. You'd chalked up the loss of her hive to either her antics or her guardian's - both of them are rather unruly and prone to violent outbreaks. From behind the door comes a quick succession of eight soft snores. Well, at least she's alive. You honestly don't feel much up to pulling the chainsaw out had Tavros done something.

You raise a fist and rap softly on the door. The snoring stops abruptly, and you listen as Vriska gathers her bearings. A second later, the door flies open, and an irritable looking troll is glaring out at you with all eight pupils. Her hair is splayed in all directions, and it takes all effort to stifle your laughter as she spits out,

"What do you want, Maryam?"

You can't help but grin at her frayed appearance and your voice rumbles with laughter as you reply,

"I simply wanted to satisfy my worry that you were okay. You know you can't always trust those boy t-" You pause, knowing you never refer to them that way in front of Vriska. Quickly, you correct yourself and pick up where you left up, "trolls that you bring home, Vriska."

Her eyes narrow, however the malice quickly fades into something that looks a little more taunting. Her lips twist upward to reveal sharpened teeth in a rather terrifying version of a grin,

"Speaking of, Kanaya. Who was that human you were talking to last night? She looked like she might have been pretty interested in you."

Instantly, you feel yourself beginning to flush, so you say something that you'd been pretending not to notice since the door had opened,

"Vriska."

"What is it, meddler?"

"You're not wearing pants."

At that, the door slammed, and you rush back downstairs, finding yourself after another ten minutes of descent in the same room you were in before. You slump back into your chair and frown at the scrap of paper. Quickly, you glance at the clock and then back to the slip. Your teeth had just begun to sink back into your upper lip when you hear a thud: Vriska had apparently decided to jump from the upper landing rather than take the stairs. She'd done so before, and quite frankly had nearly stopped your heart. This time, however, you turn smoothly in your chair and paste a grin across your features,

"Glad to see you're fully clothed."

She frowns at you, rising to her full height and brushing off any dust that had managed to get onto her clothing (the normal attire for Vriska) from the fall. Then, stomping to and rummaging around the kitchen, she retorts,

"At least I know how to dress."

You frown down at your outfit, fingers lovingly tracing the buckle crafted to take on the appearance of a Vrigo zodiac symbol. Today you'd chosen one of your favorites - a black dress made of an incredibly soft material, which cut down in a soft diagonal from your waist to finish just beneath your knees. Around your abdomen sits a leather belt of a slightly lighter hue of black - and in the center of the belt is the precious belt buckle you are caressing. You'd made it years ago, and to this day it is the only thing you can stand wearing from your early designing days. You decide that Vriska's just tired and her insults aren't up to par yet, and re-cross your legs with the opposite on top. After clearing your throat rather loudly, a brow lifts and you lean forward to attempt to catch sight of the other troll in the kitchen,

"So, Vriska-"

"What?" She bites back sharply, her voice tense. Your head tilts. Had something gone wrong last night? Your teeth follow their natural pattern and chew on your lip briefly. Maybe you can help. In the calmest voice you can muster, you venture,

"Is everything all right, Vriska?"

There's a pause before,

"Just dandy, Maryam."

Her voice is dripping with venom, and you decide it best to back off before she tries to bite you or something. For a few moments, you sit awkwardly, shifting the position of your legs and twiddling your thumbs. Finally, with a soft pop of your teeth releasing your lip, you lean forward and slowly draw the slip of paper towards you, gingerly making contact with only one fingertip as if afraid you'll be burned. Your brow creases as you stare down at the number, which glares up at you against the white. Trolls and humans don't usually have much interaction in your society. They're like land-dwellers, while trolls are more of sea-dwellers...just without the burning desire to kill all the humans. A frown tugs at your lips. Trolls and humans rarely mingle in schools. Though they are completely integrated, it seems that it aren't politics that are the problem, but simply social norm. The only thing keeping the two races from connecting are the two races themselves. Your teeth dig in slightly harder as you narrow your eyes in concentration. So why would this Rose human want to make contact with you? There were certainly plenty of humans to pick from at the club last night, and even in troll standards there is nothing about you that is exactly extraordinary. You were even hiding in a corner, what could have possibly made her see you and want to join you? Perhaps she ha-

A hand grabs one of your horns and tugs. Hard. The stretched nerves cry out in pain, sending the unpleasant sparks shooting straight to your temple. Vriska's grinning face pops in front of yours, and for a moment all you can see are two big yellow globes and eight small circles. She appears to have once again recovered her teasing persona, as she quickly coos,

"Oh come ON, Maryam. Just call her already!"

And with that, she swoops off and out of the room, a loud cackle the only reminder of her presence just seconds before. Your eyes fall to the paper once again, and your lips thin. Slowly, you extend a hand to retrieve the piece of paper, stand from your chair, and take your time making your way to the phone. Your heart pounds in your throat as you pick up the receiver and slowly enter in the number, muttering to yourself each digit as you enter it,

"1...5...4...1...9...9...5."

You take a few deep breaths, hold the phone to your ear, and hit the send button.