Sollux/Gamzee
Gamzee knows a miracle when he sees one, and he sees them often. The miracle of light, of technology, of the sky, the earth, the waves. Of friendship, of other trolls, of the rainbow of the hemospectrum, of horns and clowns and tents and laughter. He would consider himself a conniseur if such a thing were possible, and as such, he knows what the greatest miracle of all is. Life and life returned.
Gamzee is not known for a spectacular memory – the slime sees to that – but he can still remember looking over Karkat's shoulder at his computer screen, seeing the yellow mustard blood pooling around the head of one Sollux Captor. It's an image stuck in his mind, the little voice at the back of his head, reminding him that the world isn't always beautiful, that bad things happen. It screams and whispers in his ear, telling him to hate the world and its miracles. He drowns it out with slime.
The game passes by in a swirl of colors and grist. Gamzee climbs his echeladder, goes through gates, completes side-quests, responds to memos, but little stands out to him. He does what he's told with little thought behind it.
He meets his greatest miracle briefly, in passing, as it runs past him in a swirl of red and blue. But Gamzee catches the image and savors it. Sollux Captor is alive. Back from the dead, in a swirl of colors. Red blue yellow, zipping past in a flurry of life.
The voices quiet.
-o-
Gamzee has long since given up on miracles that he doesn't create himself. The others don't see it, but they never did. They stand before him now, glaring, not even appreciating that they are all together for their ends.
Gamzee's eyes are drawn to Sollux, seeing him now for the first time, unhindered by the slime. His stomach churns. The troll standing before him is not a miracle. He is a blank, half dead thing whose only color comes from the dried mustard stain on his shirt. He stares at nothing, his face contorting into pity and hate. It's ugly.
The voices scream.
Homestuck is property of Andrew Hussie
