Hello! I have things to be read, and by jove, you're the one to read them!
...Okay that sucks here's another chappie.
It's raining.
It's one of the most clichéd settings done in any way, shape or form, branding itself as symbolism. When the hero separates from their loved ones, rain surrounds them like a shroud. When a great evil triumphs over good, leaving the hero bruised and battered, it rains, thunders too, if one feels dramatic. When war wages across lands far away, it rains like shrapnel across the battlefield.
When death makes his presence known, from behind him it rains like tears.
The rain makes itself known across Skaia, pounding against the concrete, the doors, the windows, vibrating across the monochrome industrial city with no signs of stopping. Inside the grand church, the rain echoes through the corridors, accenting the preachers bellowing sermons promising paradise and eternal happiness for those lost. In the back, the boy wrings his hand across his lap, phasing out the preacher at the front in favor of the grueling storm outside, his eyes glued to the ground.
Tavros weakly wonders if Gamzee brought in his doves from this rain.
The thought quickly vanished when the preacher started to list the names of the departed, of the soldiers who fought for the city, their city. Tears sting at his eyes, like they have been for the past two days, but he refuses to cry. He has to be strong. For his dad.
He's watching.
Karkat sits next to him in this daunting cathedral, and for that he's glad. Even if he isn't here technically for Tavros. Just like the mohawked boy, the pale raven is completely uninterested in the pastor at the front, instead putting most of his attention to another black-haired man next to him. Judging by the bandages cross his eyes, the boy assumes that he's Sollux, though he didn't ask.
The grueling list carries on, accompanied by the wailing cries, the shrieks of denial, and the lament of the friends, family and comrades packed in the house of worship. When the list hit the C's, Tavros hears a sharp intake of breath and a choked sob next to him. When the boy turns slightly, he sees the blind man hunched over, with Karkat leaning to comfort him. If Tavros hadn't seen him with the recorder the other day, he wouldn't have believed the scene.
"He wath an ath," he chokes out to his partner, shaking, "but he wath my father."
Tavros could relate.
Karkat harshly whispers something incomprehensible next to him, possibly soothing, while Sollux trembles violently.
Tavros would feel sorry for him, if he wasn't already feeling so empty.
They stay like that for the next few minutes as more meaningless names came and went and the boy cringes whenever a particular loud cry echoed through out the corridor. He wishes Gamzee were here. He could hold him, whisper nice things to him, like Karkat is doing for his partner. The bot's done that for the last couple of days, while the boy just laid there, unmoving, unresponsive to everything except the clown. He opted for the bot to stay behind at his place, not too thrilled about seeing the reactions to a jovial steambot present in a large funeral. Right now, the boy regrets the decision.
More time passes, and Tavros grows more and more anxious, elevating between the rain and the pastor as he reads in a booming, if not monotone voice. It almost reminds the boy of roll call during class. The N's came, and the handicapped boy fidgets, palling and nearly on the verge of vomiting.
"…Rufio Nitram, "The Summoner"…"
There it is. The name he dreaded hearing the moment he rolled into the holy house. Tavros knew he was dead; the message came to him the morning after the Condesce landed. But hearing this from a preacher who probably doesn't care all too much about any of this puts the nail through his chest. He doubles over, trembling, dry sobs releasing themselves from his throat before he could stop them. But no tears fall. They still sting at his eyes and cloud his vision, but he refuses to shed tears. Tavros feels a palm on his back rubbing in a comforting motion and he realizes it's Karkat. The boy doesn't want that hand. He wants Gamzee's. He wants the bot in general.
He remembers the last time he saw his father. He was giving Tavros a tour of the barracks more then a week ago and he parted ways with the boy, furious about something involving another soldier. Another heavy tremor racks through him. His last moments with his own father, and the man barely gave him a proper farewell. Next day he got the message of him leaving with the Calvary. All this happened little over a week ago, yet it still felt like yesterday.
The rest of the service blurred. He couldn't tell what happened beyond that point. Who talked, what they spoke, what happened, or any of that. All the boy could focus on was his trembling hands seated on his lap, and the strong pitter-patter of the rain outside. After what seemed to be forever, the clock tower bells toll with the new hour, and the wake finally ended, the people leaving the large church with misery and sorrow following them.
Tavros took a deep breath before feeling another hand clasp his shoulder. Looking up, he sees Karkat, with Sollux behind him, clutching his hand in a death grip, giving him a sympathetic look, like the raven knows how he feels. He doesn't, the boy thinks, but he doesn't say anything. In a sense, he did lose something, but it's not nearly as grand a scale.
"Hey," He greets lamely, and the mohawked boy's surprised at the gentle kindness (pity) in his tone. Somehow, Tavros isn't surprised by that. Hardly anything surprises him these days. "Do you need a ride back home?" He asks.
Tavros considers it. The rain shows no signs of letting up and all he has is an attachable umbrella that would probably be of no use. Tavros took one glance at Sollux behind him, who just stood there, almost too quietly, and his mind was made up.
"No." the boy answers, quick and blunt, and you could tell Karkat's surprised. He needed to be alone, not taking up Karkat's time with his partner. Taking in one final deep breath to calm the horrible apprehension beginning to up his insides, he begins to roll way to the storm outside, not before giving the pale raven a quick farewell and thank you.
He was right, the umbrella didn't help much from the rain, but he didn't care. He just wants to go home. On the way, anxiety starts to eat him up. What's going to happen to him? Or to his home? He wasn't legal by Skaia standards, and Tavros didn't know if his father left a will. Questions and scenarios ruled his head with not even nearly enough answers to help him. Shivering from the cold air, the boy races home. It scares him to think that it might not be that way for long.
Unlocking the front door, Tavros is slightly relieved to be out of the rain finally. About as relieved as a malfunctioning steambot. It didn't take him too long to wheel his way to his room, where he found Gamzee, sitting on his bed, worry filling the dim glow of his indigo eyes. The mohawked boy's breath hitched as the bot started to rise from his bed to meet him, holding out a copper arm to hold him with.
Gamzee barely got off the bed before Tavros nearly crashed himself in his arms, crying for the first time in years
