Waxing Pale
Twin Kats

Thousands of years in a past-that-wasn't upon the Land of -computingerrorunknownunknown - and Frogs gathered the surviving players of the Game...

Kankri fought back a shiver and rubbed his arms together. He glanced between Kurloz and Meulin, who were miming back and forth near hyper-actively, then Latula and Mituna as they did awkward stunts with their skateboards. Mituna fell down and hit his head more often than not. Meenah was off by herself, as usual, staring pointedly at the gaping entrance where Aranea had gone through with a frown and her arms crossed. One of her feet was tapping out a rhythm. A nervous tick. Porrim was close by, she was always close by, if Kankri was perfectly honest.

Sometimes he didn't mind, and sometimes he did.

"What is taking her so long?" he asked after a minute, hunching down. It was supposed to be a short thing, go in, talk with Echidna like a crazy person. You were supposed to talk with your Denizen but whatever, Aranea always did things backwards. The even more frustrating thing was that she wasn't even showing up on Trollian anymore. Completely logged out entirely, otherwise he would pull out cool portable shades and slip them on.

There wasn't much of a point when he could just talk to every body around him though.

"Perhaps it is not as easy a for a solution to be found as we had first thought, Kankri," Porrim replied calmly. "Be patient. She will return."

"It is your Denizen, shouldn't you speak with them instead?" Kankri said back sharply, perhaps a bit impetuously. Porrim had to fight back a sigh.

"We have been over this Kankri. It is better for Aranea and Echidna to talk than Echidna and I. They can come to a more fortuitous agreement then I can, and you were the one to send Aranea in there in the first place, Kankri Vantas."

Kankri flushed. "Yes. You are right. of course. I think I will go and take a bit of a nap, Porrim. Perhaps that will make the time pass faster."

Kankri stepped away, over to a bit of the wall that was more isolated, and sat down. He curled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms about his knees. He made a pathetic sight, but then Kankri generally always made a pathetic sight. It was just a bit worrying that Kankri wasn't talking as much like himself, long-winded and self-righteous, but Kankri hadn't been as long-winded and self-righteous the longer and longer they'd been stuck in the Game, especially when it became all the more apparent how royally fucked up they all were.

Porrim turned her attention away from Kankri, and as she did so missed how his eyes seemed to glow with the color of his blood. A second later Kankri closed his eyes and breathed out slowly and concentrated.

Petunia Dursley planned to have a good day on November 2nd, especially after the rather unsettling day of November 1st. When she got up that morning and gone downstairs to fetch the milk, it was like any other day. Except for that morning there was an unusual child on her doorstep, fast asleep. Petunia's first thought was to scream for Vernon, because that seemed rather logical, except attached to the child's red blanket was a gray, normal envelope addressed to her in red ink.

At the moment of seeing the child and his dark hair, Petunia's first thought was that it was obviously her sister's brat. However the typed letter that was on plain paper—colored paper yes but actual paper—made her think twice. Perhaps this was a legitimately abandoned child, then, although why anyone would choose Number Four to drop a child of and why in the middle of freezing November? Petunia scoffed, and with greater care than she would have at first brought the child inside with the milk.

With nearly a year of motherhood under her belt Petunia was quite adept at handling a child in one arm and handling chores with the other, so she put away the milk and then opened up the letter and poured herself a glass of orange juice. Calmly she perused the oddly typed words and the more she read the more she began to frown.

Petunia Dursley

The y9ung wriggler that y9u are currently h9lding is rather special, and while I d9 n9t presume t9 6elieve y9u will ever c9me t9 care f9r him in any f9rm 9f the w9rd his safety has f9r n9w 6een entrusted t9 y9u. Please d9 n9t take this lightly as there is plenty f9r y9u t9 6e educated a69ut in regards t9 his care.

First, f9r many 9f the several seas9ns t9 c9me the y9ung wriggler will be c9nstantly sleeping. There is n9t much y9u can d9 a69ut this and I already kn9w y9u will l9ck him in a st9rage cl9set. This is p99r treatment and in many circles c9nsidered a6use, y9u are quite lucky y9u get away with it at all. During the slum6ering seas9ns he will n9t need much sustenance aside from the 9ccasi9nal milk fr9m a h99fbeast that y9u call a c9w.

What at first seemed like a simple, one page letter, turned into nearly a full document on how at first Petunia should care for the child in her arms to eventually how she most likely would end up miscaring for the child in her arms. Eventually Petunia had to put the letter down. Not once did it mention the child's name, instead calling it 'wriggler' for some unfathomable reason.

Petunia looked to the child in her arms and couldn't help but smile softly. "Oh you poor dear," she said, her heart breaking. The poor thing must've had such a horrible time if it came from whomever wrote that note. "You're previous guardians must have been unfit for you. Don't worry, we'll make things right."

They had been discussing the idea of having another child, Vernon and Petunia, although with Petunia's condition that wasn't likely. While both parents preferred to have a daughter another son wouldn't be too bad. Vernon already made enough that they could care for two rambunctious little boys, and that was all that mattered to Petunia in the end.

Decision made, Petunia binned the entire letter and put it out of mind. In doing so she completely missed how it seemed to shimmer, and then disappear from existence shortly thereafter. After all, its job had been done.

As the years passed, and passed, life changed in the Dursley household. What once would have been a chance at a happy life turned in short order to sour and ruin. Petunia had read that she would place the child in the cupboard under the stairs, that he would act odd and sleep a lot. That he would refuse most food and require only milk after certain days.

After a while it became apparent that the letter Petunia had binned rang true, whether Petunia remembered the letter at all or not. A year passed into two, then three, and four. The young child never quite grew out of being constantly tired but he did grow taller, and perhaps more freaky with every turn of the year.

At first the child was just silent, he rarely ever spoke and just stared at them in confusion when he was awake. Petunia had thought it was stupid, perhaps some form of degenerative disease or maybe she had messed up somewhere, feeding it only milk. Eventually she quashed such feelings down, deep down, and with Vernon's help they raised the thing (it ceased to be a living breathing human after the third year) to help around the house.

Then it spoke, just once, to ask where its "lusus" was and once Petunia and Vernon had figured out what a lusus was from the child and suitably responded to such freakish notions the child never asked questions again. He remained silent, slightly fearful, and did as they bid without much question. When he was six there was a short visit from the aged Headmaster of Lily's school and Petunia nearly had an aneurism.

It turns out the thing was her nephew after all.

Vernon was away at work that day, thank goodness otherwise blood would have been had instead of just words, when the knock came at the door. Petunia stood over the stove, ladle in hand. It was beef stroganoff tonight, in honor of Vernon's promotion at work. The thing was washing the dishes dutifully beside her where she could keep an eye on him. Dudley was at Piers for a playdate.

The door rang again and Petunia lowered the heat on the stove.

"Coming," she called, shot a warning glance to it and strode from the room. She dried her hands on her apron, checked her hair in the hallway mirror, and answered the door. He stood there in the doorway, maroon colored robes and a blinding smile in his face.

"Hello Petunia, may I come in?" Albus asked pleasantly and Petunia barely held back the scream that threatened to escape her. She glanced about, just to check that the neighbors weren't watching, and ushered him in.

"What are you doing here!?" Petunia hissed through clenched teeth. "Is there something my sister wants? Is there something you lot want? You are not welcome here! In, in, before the neighbors see you!"

Albus stepped inside and Petunia slammed the door. They eyed each other both, for a minute, and then the old man offered her a lemon drop which she refused with a sneer. They continued to just stare at one another in dead silence.

"I'm here to check up on young Harry," Albus said cheerfully after a minute.

"Who?" Petunia asked. There was no one by the name of Harry here, as far as she knew. Then it hit her, the thing. "It was you? You left him here on our doorstep with that letter? That odd thing of a letter? That abnormal boy?"

"Well I did warn you Petunia that he was a special child," Albus chided lightly. "Now where is he? I would like to check up on him, make sure you followed the directions as best you could." There was a slight frostiness to his words as he spoke, a coldness that sent shivers down Petunia's spine.

"I-I'll just go get him then," Petunia said after a minute and went right back into the kitchen. She tugged it from the sink and dried its hands and then brought it to the wizard in the hallway. "Here. Are you...are you taking him away from here?" At the frosted glare Petunia winced, perhaps she sounded a bit too eager.

"I'm afraid not, Petunia, this is the safest place for him," Albus said sadly. "Would I if I could, though...oh, do be a dear and fetch us something to snack on? We'll be in the sitting room if you don't mind." Gentle handed Albus steered the child into the living room and set him down on the couch. With a few pops and groans he set himself down before the child as well and smiled soothingly. For a moment the child stared back at him, fearful, and Albus turned to glace at the doorway just to be sure Petunia really wasn't going to show up with snacks.

"What a horrible hostess," the old man sighed. "Oh well. Hello, little wriggler, my name is Albus." The child stared back at him with wide eyes, wary and fearful.

"Where's my lusus?" he asked, after a minute. "An' my hive?"

Albus nodded sadly. "Don't worry, they're right where you left them." A bit braver now the kid tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

"Where's that?"

Albus smiled secretively, "Oh but telling ruins the mystery, and a good mystery is what makes an adventure fun youngster. Now you tell me...are you being fed enough here?" He nodded once and looked down. "Good. Know that this is the safest place for you right now, youngster. You may not understand why yet, but you will in time."

"Safer with my lusus," the kid growled back. It was kind of cute and Albus had to fight down a smile.

"I know, and you are," Albus sighed.

"Why they look funny?" the kid asked after a second, feeling braver now that he knew questions weren't a bad thing. "Like, like hornless pink trolls."

"That, little wriggler, is a question you will have to ask me again when you see me next," Albus said after a minute of thought. "If you don't know the answer by then, ask again." The kid crossed his arms and pouted.

"Fine."

"Good. I have to go now, but remember. You are safest here for the time being, and your lusus is right where you left him. He always will be."

Albus got up and walked out of the living room, the kid stared at him as he left, a frown on his face. Before he had completely vanished though the kid called out, "Nubby!" a bit angrily and Albus paused, blinked and turned around confused.

"Excuse me?"

"You a stupid nubby grubfucker," the kid snapped and glowered angrily, before storming back into the kitchen to finish with the dishes. Albus blinked once.

"That was a horribly rude thing to say," the aged man murmured. "Horribly rude, potentially triggering." He turned on heel and left with a sharp crack.

A bit of the secrecy spell broke even further.

Summary: Nobody is displeased to have more help against Lord English or Jack, but everybody is confused as to how this new group of humans showed up on the meteor hurtling through the Furthest Ring. Everybody except Karkat who is just cursing up a storm and facepalming. Repeatedly. Of course they'd crash the party. They can never leave well enough alone, can't they. / Potterstuck

Kankri's appearance probably does not mean what you think it does. Let me tell you that. Let me tell you it probably means no where near what you think it does. This shit gets so convoluted that even giving you that much of my plot (which is not much of the workings why) only 3 chapters in isn't the dip into the pool. Its just a taste of the crazy to come.

This is what I am good it people. Crazy, twisted, turning, insane little plots that are so convoluted you won't know every minute detail until its happened. Or just how interconnected it all is until its done. So yeah, this? This isn't even the tip of the iceburg. It's not even a taste of what will be coming soon.

Although hopefully that's enough of the secrets (aside from whats up with Karkat on Earth specifically) to be revealed until 2nd or 3rd year. At this moment, given how Homestuck updates have taken a turn of the TEASINGLY SLOW (according to my roommate who claims that normally its several pages updated a day) I will be dragging out Karkat's time on earth for as long as possible. Whether that be by slow updates, or long-focus on years at Hogwarts, I dunno yet. We'll see.