You gape at her.
The tall troll sighs, rolling her eyes at you. "I am giving you three minutes to take me to him."
"Hargh?" is all you can manage.
In the background, the Psiioniic has stopped his cursing and sways back and forth in the breeze, going slightly cross-eyed as the blood rushes to his head. He watches you become flustered, and even manages a chuckle before he spins the other way. He at least has the decency to squawk loudly as he runs into the tree. At the noise, the Dolorosa slips out a small white tube from among her numerous dress folds; with a crackle and the smell of burning hair, it shudders into something larger... And deadly looking. It roars into life, and she advances towards the Psiioniic, who begins waving his arms and calling to you for help.
And suddenly, he falls to the ground with a loud thump and an expletive.
The Dolorosa turns back to you again, still brandishing her strife weapon. You meet her eyes with your own, and this time you're ready.
"Follow!" you say meekly.
The purple grass whispers as you brush by it, prickly tendrils trying to claw at your clothing. You pay it no mind. Your only thought is to get to the Signless as soon as possible – and not just because the Dolorosa has her huge daunting weapon.
Now that you've finally found her, your only hope, it seems time is slipping away faster than ever.
As you jump over a clump of weeds hiding a ditch, the Psiioniic on your back gives a small mutter of complaint. Since his ungraceful reintroduction with the ground, his rib has cracked again. Just like old times, you think wryly. The joke, of course, being that that had happened only a week or so ago.
"Are we almost there?" The precises tones of the Dolorosa interrupt your thoughts. She has managing to keep up very well with you, considering her heavy, dragging skirts and awkward weapon. Her face shows no sign of strain, only annoyance covering concern. She's very pale, you notice. Dark rings linger beneath her large, slightly tilted eyes. Your heart softens just a little bit when you realize just how worried she must have been.
"Yes," you reply. "Not far."
The Psiioniic mutters something very rude, but you're the only one to hear. You hope. If the Dolorosa did hear, she chooses to ignore it.
"Well, carry on." She says. "My time is limited."
"Yes," you reply, and turn around to lead her again.
When you reach the campsite and see the Signless lying right where you left him, you breath a sigh of relief. The sound is echoed behind you, and you glance at the Dolorosa to see her face melting into a look of intense joy and agonizing concern. She discards her mysterious strife weapon, not even bothering to shift it into whatever it is she tucks away, and drops to her knees beside the Signless. She whispers a name, though you can't hear it, before gently easing aside his bandages. Hovering behind her, you smell the sickness and unhealthiness. You bite your lip, feeling oddly ashamed and guilty.
The Dolorosa clucks her tongue, her shoulders hunched up with either resolution or weariness – or both. You wonder how many days she must have been on the lookout. Not just for you, of course, but for pursuing authorities or other curious or hostile trolls.
You feel a tap on your shoulder. "You can let me down now," whispers the Psiioniic. You jump, having completely forgotten he was there. With a squeak, you jog a few paces away and let go of his legs. He eases off slowly, cursing and wincing. "Agh," he mutters, touching his side gingerly. "Fuck everything. Fuck me."
"Please refrain from doing the former," you hear. "And I very much doubt the latter is a desirable option for anyone in the general vicinity." You both glance up to the Dolorosa, and she has a strange set to her mouth. Then you realize she's smiling – or smirking, depending on how you look at it. Even though you can't really understand what she said, you gather enough to chuckle as the Psiioniic looks sheepishly away, his cheeks flushing gold. Nice and meek for a change.
The Dolorosa tuts as she sees the Signless' wounds. "Come here," she says without looking up. After looking from side to side and figuring she can't mean the Psiioniic, you jump up, tip-toeing over to her, your heart pounding just a little bit. Calm down, you tell yourself. She's only one troll.
A terrifyingly strict troll, of course.
"Did you take care of his wounds?" she asks you. You can't tell what she thinks from her tone of voice, and her face is smooth and expressionless. You nod stiffly, a drop of sweat sliding down your back. She glances up at you, her jade eyes shadowed by the weak moonlight, but somehow their color manages to spring out at you. She's so beautiful, you think. Extraordinarily so. Self-consciously, you adjust your skirt and cross your arms, even more miserable and nervous than ever by her penetrating gaze.
"You did an excellent job," she tells you, and a small smile crosses her painted lips. You stare blankly back, and it takes a few moments to realize that she is complimenting you. You flush happily as she continues. "I can tell that you were in the forest. Probably somewhere up north, am I correct?" you nod. "I know those parts a little, and I also know that herbs and plants with beneficiary qualities can be difficult to distinguish from more malevolent ones. And you kept his bandages clean enough." She stands up, brushing off her skirts. When she places a hand on your shoulder, you flinch a little, but she merely continues smiling at you.
"You have done well," she says. And then she pats your head with such tenderness that you feel your heart melting just a little, while at the same time swelling up with pride and joy. Oddly enough, you're reminded of the first time you ever brought down your first kill alone. As you dragged the carcass back to your cave, tired and weary, you couldn't help but feel a small sense of success. When you reached the mouth where Pounce de Leon was waiting, you fell over, exhausted. But you heard the soft pad of cat steps, and the rough tongues of your Lusus, and the double tenor of her purrs filled your ears and your heart as you both lay there.
But another troll shouldn't make you feel that way... Right? It's supposed to be disgusting and completely primal. But if it's so wrong, then why does it make you so happy?
The Dolorosa returns back to the Signless' side, and she pulls out a clay jar somewhere from her robes. It's a little daunting everything she can fit in them. She doesn't even have pockets. You think. She rubs the greenish ointment over his wounds, and the Signless flinches, his shallow breathing coming out in gasps. His eyelids flicker, as if he's searching for something beneath his closed eyes. You hear the Dolorosa coo something, like a mantra, but it's too soft to be heard... It sounds like something important, though. A tug in your gut makes you desperately want to know. You drift closer, hoping to hear...
The Signless' eyes fly open.
You jump with a little hiss. Even the Dolorosa stiffens a bit. The Signless' wide, frenzied eyes travel across his caretaker's face, and for a moment there is only coldness in those impossibly red eyes of his. And then recognition dawns on his features, and a crooked smile lights up, like the moons appearing from behind the clouds.
"Porrim," he whispers.
Porrim? You wonder. And then you look at the Dolorosa. She's smiling tenderly, smoothing back the damp hair from his face. With a lurch in your stomach, you realize that Porrim is her name. Your face flushes bright green, and you stumble back a few steps. You have just come across something very private and intimate. You feel as if you shouldn't have heard that. If you were accustomed to the culture of modesty centering around nudity, your feelings would have been similar to those of a person who has just walked in on someone completely naked – or worse, pailing with someone.
"Shh, I am here," Porrim – no, the Dolorosa! – says. She continues to apply ointment, and the Signless sighs with relief, his eyes half-closed into red slits. Then they widen a bit, and you realize he's looking at you.
"H-hello," you mutter awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. The Dolorosa pauses her work to look at you as well, and the two set of calm, penetrating stares is making you very nervous. You wish you could just curl up into a ball, or crawl into a hole.
"Hi," he replies. You stare a bit at each other, and then he beckons you closer. "Come here," he says. You take a step, and then look at him. The Dolorosa snorts.
"She is like a wild beast," she remarks, her plump, jade lips twisting with a wry smile. The Signless wheezes out a laugh, nodding.
"Indeed. I won't bite," he adds, looking back at you. "I don't know what you're being so shy about. I just want to talk."
He looks slightly forlorn, which is enough incentive for you to quickly trot over and kneel next to him. You don't have the same fluid grace as the Dolorosa, but you are swift and quiet.
"Here," you announce. "Feel you better?"
"Not really," he confesses, wincing as Porrim adds some more strange goop to his wounds. "But at least this stuff is numbing it. My head feels just a bit clearer."
"It will not soon, I am afraid," warns the jade blood. "I need to give you some pain killing medicine before we may return back to my temporary hive."
"Soon?" the Signless groans.
"Pain killing?" you ask. Killing pain should be impossible, but if it can be done, you are interested to see how.
As if by magic – which is impossible, of course, all the Highbloods say so – Porrim reaches into her waistband, producing a cylindrical object with a sharp point. The Signless lifts a lip in disgust, flinching as she pokes him with it. You gape, wondering what on Alternia is happening.
"Dammit," growls the Signless, shutting his eyes and shuddering. "I really.. Hah.. Mphfadfayy shub rargh..." he trails off, his eyes rolling back into his head.
"That is better," the Dolorosa remarks, tucking the sharp object away. From behind you, you hear a derisive snort, and you turn to see the Psiioniic chuckling.
"That's the best thing I've seen all day!" he chortles.
"And it will not be the last, unleth you keep your flapper thut," snaps the Dolorosa, turning around to give him a sharp glare while mimicking his accent. The Psiioniic clicks his jaw shut. Then she turns to you, and you wonder with dread what it is that you've done, but she only smiles. "As for you, I wonder if you could help me put together a litter?"
You blink, not understanding the word, but you nod anyways. She beckons you closer, explaining simply what to do and what to gather. Thirty minutes later, she ties up the last branch with some dry grass and stands up.
"That was good timing," she remarks. You shrug modestly. You're pretty much a pro at gathering firewood and sticks. The Dolorosa turns back to the slumbering Signless, and with a gentle strength drags him onto the litter. Then she turns to you.
"I will not be able to carry him alone," she tells you. The unspoken request lingers in the air. Without even a glance to the Signless, you nod.
"I help."
The Dolorosa has a rather cozy hive, you think.
After carrying the Signless for what seemed about an hour or two, the Dolorosa had stopped, setting down the litter softly and motioning for you to do the same. Behind you, you could hear the Psiioniic puffing and cursing and limping, but he made it in the end. The Dolorosa slid aside some brush on the ground, and seemingly disappeared... But it was, in fact, a cleverly disguised hole. After pushing the litter through and waiting a few moments, you slid down it yourself. And when you came through, you had to admit you rather liked the underground hive.
Currently, you watch her tut over the Signless some more. She's shifted him to a table with wheels, and moved him to another room. You follow, lifting aside some curtains that block the doorway. For being underground, the earthen walls are clean, and lanterns are placed strategically in alcoves. Several rugs decorate the floor, and in one room you can hear a wardrobe humming. You've never seen one before, but supposedly they select an outfit each day for you, matching colors and everything. Somewhere, some troll is working on actually getting it to clothe you as well, but everyone just thinks that's very silly.
Porrim glances up when you pad in, and she frowns. "I believe that what I am about to do may severely alarm and upset you," she informs you. You tilt your head, pondering the words before answering.
"From wild," you reply. "Is good."
"Well, yes, I do suppose you see a lot of blood and gore out there, but none of it is purposely inflicted... Oh, I see that I am speaking too fast. Erm," she pauses, noticing your confused glance. She looks around helplessly, and then an idea seems to bloom in her head.
"Here, I need you to do me a favor," she tells you. You perk up; you desperately want to feel useful. "I need you to go into town and get me some..." she thinks for a few moments. "Some new, er, Ah! Some more lip paint and rouge. I am fresh out, I am afraid." She smiles and pats her cheek for emphasis. "You can get yourself some, if you so desire," she concludes.
After showing you where she kept the money and explaining which color she wanted, the Dolorosa shoos you from the room. You stare dumbly at the curtain for a few seconds, and then meekly walk away. You encounter the Psiioniic in the ante-dugout, but he is consumed with his portable husktop, tip-tapping away. "Go by yourself," he grumpily tells you. "I'm busy here."
Looks like you're on your own.
A/N: Holy shit, I made an update. Real sorry about the lack of those recently. I got plenty of plans, though, have no worries! Whole storyline is pretty much mapped out. But I also have an excuse: I am in Germany! So, updates will be waaaay slower (if you haven't been able to tell)!
And jeegus, I had so much planned for this chapter... But I have to split it in half ufhsasjhf! Next chapter gets... Well, that would be spoiling, wouldn't it? ;)
