Childish Caretaker

by arual14

What if the Grand Highblood isn't how we expect him to be? What if he was completely different? What if his relationship with his descendant isn't the violent and abusive one we're used to? Rated T for blood, death, painting with blood, possibly mild gore and cursing. Also, mentions of childhood trauma.

6. Gamzee: Return

Gamzee: Return

Your name is Gamzee Makara and you are going to flip your shit as soon as you find the fucker responsible for this.
You've just came home from a two-week mission and the first thing you see is Algedi passed out on the floor, long scratches along his arms and on his shoulders, his whole face contorted in a mask of agony and horror even as he sleeps. It does things to your blood pusher, makes you wanna hold him real close, makes you wanna whisper soft words of encouragement to him.

You can't.
Not now at least, not with him just lying there.

When you move to get him off the floor you can't help but notice that you're almost as big as him by now. But then again, you've grown like hell over the last half sweep, getting both taller and broader, filling in while still maintaining a slimness, still somehow remaining gangly.

It's not hard to haul him off the floor and you can't help but sigh as you move him to the couch before you leave to get something to clean his wounds with. He's getting old fast, his hair going white and wrinkles appearing on his face. It would almost seem unbelievable if it wasn't because you spend so much time with him and away from him, finding more and more of his age sinking in every night.

You're completely done cleaning his wounds when he wakes up, shifting to hide. He flinches when you reach out to touch him, his ears going back and his muscles going tight, ready to push off and fight. It takes a minute or two before he calms down and just curls up against you and for the hundredth time you find yourself wondering if it's possible to be pale for your ancestor. You shake it off as usual, just holding him close as he murmurs soft, unintelligible words beneath his breath.

You've noticed that the older he gets, the more his mind seems to be destroyed, like he's trying to protect himself by forgetting.

You settle with a soft sigh, just holding him close as you run your hand through his hair the mass out it slowly turning from black to silver. It makes you worry, worry that he won't be alright.

Your name is Gamzee Makara and you have finally accepted that you are pale for your ancestor.