The way the sun rises is almost rude, intrusive. Sollux sends it a thousand grudging curses as the grey light filters through the broken window, brighter than usual due to the absence of the dust on the glass. Beneath the sill, he imagines Dave to still be sleeping, bent over with one hand in his lap and the other with the fingers curled around that headband, his glasses still on his face, hiding his closed eyes.

But strangely, he is not. Sollux takes a good while to sit up, feeling understandably damp and achy from a night of slumber on the rotten ground, and his eyes dart over to the other side of the room and meet wood paneling, not a sleeping teen. In his still half-sleeping confusion, Sollux blinks for a while at the empty space, before standing up, flexing his shoulders.

"Strider?"

It's obvious that the coolkid isn't here, and Sollux is frustrated more by his have-been than anything. He pulls his torn jacket closer around his bony frame, shivering as he bitterly notices the still-gaping hole in the wall where the window used to be. He's currently too annoyed to even care about Dave's motives. There wasn't much to even think on, anyway; if someone enters your property and then is gone by the time that you wake up, nothing is much to left to the imagination. Sollux will investigate his belongings later - he expects theft, of course. Despite Dave's apparent good intentions of the night before, Sollux still doesn't trust him as far as he can throw him.

"Strider?" he calls again, expecting no response. He presses his back against the wall with another silent curse, directed at himself, more than anything, for being so foolish. Rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, he drags his feet over to the east wall, where he usually dumps his belongings.

When he opens his eyes, he is surprised.

Not only is his own rucksack there, but Dave's is too, leaning against the other like a tired friend. Sollux blinks, crouching down to look at it, wrinkling his nose. It's not exactly the strangest thing that's happened, but it's close. Glancing back at the broken window, Sollux begins to feel the thing that he always dreaded the most.

Concern.

Dave Strider is the last person he thought he would feel it for, but here it is, and Dave is most certainly gone. Maybe the worry is completely selfish, however. Sollux is so hopeful to see Aradia again, and maybe Dave was his only hope, or maybe not. Either way, his guide is inexplicably missing and without his belongings, too.

Sollux kicks the wall.

He knew that hope was pointless, and he himself is hopeless for believing in it in the first place.

After a few moment spent moping in his frustrated, self pitying stupor, Sollux shrugs Dave's pack over one shoulder and nudges the door open with his toe, preparing to go and look for whatever might be left of the kid. If he was caught unawares by one of the more desperate kind of rogue, then he's done for. He would have been dinner within minutes, and only his bones would be left - and even those would be used for crafting tools. There wouldn't be a trace left of him.

Regretfully, Sollux traipses towards the city, remembering the mother lying curled up with her children and how she was apparently still in one piece. She's one of the respected, that's what he always thinks. She was lucky enough to be left in one piece after death, despite her and the other bodies nestled with her constituting quite the feast for any hungry cannibal.

Often, he will wonder how long it takes for him to get that desperate, too.

It's clear when he starts to near the city limits - the bare ground starts on a gradient into crumbling concrete, dusty and exposed and kind of sad looking in many ways. Sollux doesn't like to think about how poetic it all almost looks, how eerily beautiful. He doesn't like to think about how Aradia would be having a field day if she saw all of this, if she lived amongst it.

He does, however, like to think about how she still might be living amongst it.

While hope is helpless, it's certainly helped him get by.

At the first building he comes to, he outstretches his arm, trailing his fingers along the rough, scorched brick, feeling every dent, every nook and cranny, trying his hardest to distract his mind from what he might be about to see. But when he casts an eye over the ground and across the gaping windows of the derelict buildings, he finds the area to be empty, the occasional wind ghosting through the gaps and creating a lonely whistling sound on the panelling of some of the buildings. Shrugging to himself, he continues, shuffling through the streets with his eyes to the ground.

"Sollux?"

Sollux whips around. The voice came from behind him, and it certainly wasn't Dave's - much too feminine, even Sollux would admit that. If he was any less alert than he is now, he might have suspected that it's Aradia.

But it's not, surely. He knows the world doesn't work that way.

His movements slow, he begins to creep towards the window frame. He can't see anything past the few triangles of glass that remain embedded in the frame, and squints his eyes so that he might just be able to see into the gloom. It yields no result, however, as when he is even merely a foot away he still can't see shit.

"Oh, Sollux!"

Sollux freezes, blinking, his grip on the strap of the pack tightening with fear (although he'd never admit to it). The voice doesn't sound right, not at all - too breathy, whispery, too sing-songy - but the strange nagging feeling is pushed to the back of his mind as curiosity and enthusiasm overtake it. Gently, he places one hand on the frame, ducking his head inside. A foolish action, even he knows that, but the person beyond the window definitely knows him and he can't afford to lose them now.

And then a growl.

Quiet, high, but a growl, wavering through the dark. Sollux thinks to retreat, and quickly, but his heart is suddenly struck with realisation and he smiles instead.

"Nepeta?"

Nothing.

"Nepeta, is that you?"

Sollux listens to his voice echo vaguely through the space, watching diligently for any signs of movement. And then he hears it. The soft whooshing of fabric brushing up against the brick, the dull thuds of footfalls as whoever is behind the wall - and god, does Sollux hope with all of his being that it's Nepeta - approaches the window again.

"Sollux!"

He barely gets a look at the owner of the rather shrill voice before she pounces through the window, her toned arms holding him down into the ground when they get there. Nepeta's tongue is hanging out of the side of her mouth in her excitement, and-

Oh god, did she just lick him?

"Oh, Sollux! I am so glad to see you! It's been such a long time-"

Another lick, more intimate this time. Sollux is verging on uncomfortable.

"Sollux, you taste delicious."

Oh shit.