A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait! I had writer's block for both the Summoner & Redglare. I've been working on other parts of the fic, but their parts completely stumped me. However, I am really glad that so many people are supporting this and it really does keep me motivated. :)

The title is completely inverted because if Tavros wrote, "I Can't Forgive, and I Can't Forget" then you would get what you see above/below.

Hope you enjoy!

Part 5: i cAN'T fORGIVE, aND i cAN'T fORGET

This might come off as immature and stupid of you, but the first thing that occurred to you when you laid eyes on him was: His horns are bigger than mine! You meant they're bigger than when you were eight sweeps old - that was the age Aranea had mentioned right? You were envious for a moment and then was overcome with a bout of laughter.

Poor whatever-his-name-is! He was going to have horns bigger than yours! The sheer outward spreading of your horns was as long as your entire body, meaning that if you wanted to walk through a doorway front ways, then you should also be able to fit through it horizontally - minus the horns - as well. (Heh, that description made no sense. Oh well, you've never been one for words.)

You were laughing so hard at this revelation, you didn't notice your descendant's discomfort or the tears in his eyes until you had recovered. You instantly regretted what you had done and hurried to comfort him. "Oh man, sorry kid, I wasn't laughing at you. Sorry, sorry, I am just really stupid sometimes and I realized that-" When you felt the amusement bubble in your chest again, you stopped yourself. "Hey um, I didn't mean anything by it."

Mentally, you were scolding yourself. Admittedly, you were always hard on yourself, but you had blundered big time here.

The kid was blushing furiously as he brushed the tears away. "S-sorry, if I did something, um, wrong," he stuttered, his gaze averted in shame.

"Nah, you didn't. I'm a doofus, that's all," you said hurriedly, waving your hands as if that would help your case. Great, he probably thought you were a raving lunatic.

There was silence. Not the companionable silence you had with the animals or the peaceful silence of mutual contemplation. It was the thick, tension-filled silence and both of you were not handling it well. He was blushing consistently and doing everything to avoid your eyes locking and you were staring at him, restlessly moving your limbs and fluttering your wings. It was extremely awkward and you were on the verge of absconding to a cave and lecturing yourself about how much of an idiot you were.

Well, isn't this a pretty little mess you've got here, Summy? The coy female voice in your head was familiar, almost comforting, but you were in no mood for smarminess and self-deprecation. You needed to step up.

You cleared your throat. Your descendant's eyes flicked to you for a moment before immediately jumping to another object. After sighing, you patted the kid's shoulder. "Hey, so what's your name?"

Laaaaaaaame, chimed the voice, giggling.

"Tavros N-Nitram," he murmured, barely a whisper.

Encouraged, you grinned. "Nice to meet you, Tavros. I'm the Summoner."

You stuck your hand out for him to shake, placing it close enough so he could see it without looking up. A bit of the tension drained from the atmosphere as he timidly placed his clammy palm against yours. "I . . . I, um, know who you are," Tavros told you quietly. He seemed to pluck up enough courage to look up.

It was sort of amusing, because he reminded you a lot of yourself. (Duh, that's 8ecause he is you. 8asically.)Except far more nervous. You don't remember ever being as timid and cowardly as the troll you are faced with. You wonder if that's because of out-lying circumstances or if you're truly different. Either way, you are determined to earn his trust.

"You do?" you asked, attempting to lure Tavros into speaking more.

He nodded. "Yes. Aranea told us all, uh, all about you guys." He tilted his head and his brows furrowed. "She didn't . . . she d-didn't tell us how you looked."

You mock gasped and flattened a hand against your chest dramatically. "Am I hideous?" you joked, pretending to be scandalized.

The tentative smile you earned deserved a celebration. "Um, no. A-at least, I don't think so." He chuckled and blushed again. It was actually rather endearing and adorable. (Aw, yours was too, Summy.) "I just didn't expect you . . . You look just like . . ."

"Just like . . . ?"

"Rufio," he finished, examining your face closely.

"Rufio?" you echoed uncertainly, suddenly very confused.

He froze and his eager expression turned horrified. "Ignore that," he pleaded, holding his hands up as if trying to ward you off. "I-I-I promised Vriska I wouldn't talk about, uh, about Rufio. I'm, I'm just really stupid and you just look so much like how I thought he would be, and . . ." His eyes widened, even more mortified. "I'm . . . I'm . . . going to stop, uh, t-talking, because . . . I, uh . . ." Then he shut his mouth and stared down, arms hugging each other.

Come on, don't let him drop the subject. He was getting flustered like you get sometimes and it was cute. Plus, I want to know who this Rufio guy is.

This was why she was your inner voice; she knew exactly what to do, no matter what the situation. You tried to smile reassuringly at Tavros, despite him not being able to see it. "This Rufio person isn't a bad person, is it? I couldn't see why you wouldn't promise not to talk about him. I'd like to know who I'm so similiar to." You squeezed his shoulder, hoping that helped, too.

That did the trick. Tavros nodded and raised his gaze again. He balked at seeing you straight on and began to fidget. "Uh." He left it at that for a minute, before taking a deep breath and blurting out everything else. "Rufio is an imaginary person who represents my self-confidence and he looks a lot like you except he, uh, he didn't have your horns." He slowed down, a horrified expression on his face.

Wow, did you understand any of that? I sure didn't.

"Er . . ." You raised an eyebrow at the kid. "He's imaginary?"

The horrified turned mortified and the blush returned. "Y-y-yes. I, uh, tried to, to tell you it was stupid."

Despite your confusion and the slightly weird aspect that this guy - or whatever Rufio was - looked like you, you shrugged it off and replied with confidence. "That's nothing to worry about kid. I used to make up friends when I was little, too."

The expression lightened slightly. Hopeful, yet weary. "You did?"

"Yeah, sure I did," you reassured him. "After all, me and my lusus lived out in the middle of nowhere in a hundred foot tall hive. I had to entertainment myself for the most part."

He continued to brightened up, a small spark of curiosity spreading across his face. "H-hundred foot tall? It was, uh, that big?"

You shrugged. "Well, it wasn't big. It was thin, with a room or two on every floor, and an aerial landing pad on every other level so Bull and I didn't have to walk up so many stairs."

His eye eyebrows suddenly furrowed together. "Wait, fly? Uh, how long have you, had your, um, wings?"

You were definitely smiling now, wide and toothy. You restrained it enough to put on a mock disappointed face and reached forward to pat his shoulder. "Oh c'mon Tavros, you let me down. How could my own flesh and blood not know these basic facts about me?"

Look at that, you're getting all custodian-al and putting on your charm. He's grinning like a chump. I would compliment your acting, but I know you're alwaaaaaays sincere, aren't you?

Ignoring the playful barb, you realized she was right; grinning like a chump, wide and toothy.

Sort of like you, actually.

Yeah. If he had more hair than that fluffy mohawk, squared his jaw, and warped his features a bit, you would have yourself staring back at you with a shy yet exuberant grin. In any other situation, that would unnerve you something awful. Instead, it was heartwarming and a fondness for your descendant began to grow in the back of your thinkpan.

You slung an arm over his shoulder, his horn against your back, and gestured around you, dragging him in a circle to survey your surroundings. "You see all this, kid? This is the place I grew up." You began strolling forward, shuffling through the thigh-high grass with ease. "A huge grassland filled swaying golden stalks with plenty of room to walk, run, explore, fight, play, and . . ." Within in a moment you were behind him, snagging his waist and holding tight. You flapped twice and you were airborne, soaring twenty, thirty feet off the ground and gaining altitude by the second. Tavros yelped and clung to your arm. "And lots of room to fly!" you finished, gliding towards a nearby needle-like structure. "So yeah, to answer your question, I've had my wings since pupation."

You pro8a8ly should've warned him that you were going to do that.

Probably.

The construct wasn't far. The moments it took to fly there were spent in silence. He was stiff and unresponsive except for the fierce grip on your arm. It worried you. Had you scared him too much? When you touched down on the aerial landing pad, you released him and moved to peer at him. "Hey, you alright?"

Eyes wide, arms clutching his sides, he nodded slowly. "I'm fine. I've, flown before." At your surprised stare, he smiled. "I, uh, just wasn't . . . expecting that." He shuffled to the edge of the landing. "W-wow, we are . . ." He gulped. "Really high up. Guess it's, uh, been a while."

You chuckled and shoved your hands in your pockets. "Man, this is nothing. I can go hundreds and hundreds of feet up. Don't feel bad about being scared or nothing. I've been doing this since I was a wriggler."

Tavros's grin fell and he took a step away from the edge. "Yeah," he said uncertainly, as if he didn't know the right words to speak.

"Uh . . ." Oh great, he had you awkward and hesitant now.

Is it me or does he need a confidence 8oost?

Uh-huh.

Soooooooo, why don't you find out what Mr. 8ashful's problem is?

Yeah, that sounded like a good place to start.

"I didn't frighten you, did I?"

He frowned. "Not really. It was, uh, a surprise, but not that, scary."

Well there went that theory. What else could it be? You resisted the urge to tilt your head at him (the last time you did that, your horns' weight knocked you off balance and you fell) and continued to question him. "Something's bothering you. Spit it out." If ordering is an equivalent to asking questions, that is exactly what you were doing.

He shuffled around a bit more, stalling before he had to answer. He refused to meet your gaze and stared at the swaying grass below. It took him a full minute and a half to begin. "I wasn't expecting . . . this."

You opened your mouth to interrupt and your inner voice spat, No, let him finish.

Another five minutes passed before he spoke again and you were on the absolute edge of your seat, anxious as hell to find out what could be bothering him this much. "I," he faltered and sighed. "I thought, you were going to . . . be mean, or horrible, or, uh, this really tough guy that, you don't want to mess with. I wasn't . . . expecting this. Because you're, nice, and you're actually sort of, um, concerned. I, I thought you would, take one l-look at me and, say . . . say 'go away, you're a disgrace'. I don't, know how to . . . How do, you handle this?"

Silence.

Hey, speak up! That wasn't a rhetorical question!

"What's 'this' exactly?" you asked tentatively.

He clasped his hands together and shrugged. "I . . . I don't, know. Someone being . . . uh, nice?

Oh wow, that's sad. He doesn't know how to handle nicety? Poor sap.

As if sensing your incredulity without seeing it, he sighed again. "My, uh, friends, aren't really the most, kind. I mean, Vriska's sort of pushy and mean. Karkat and Sollux yell a lot, and Eridan makes, fun of me. Kanaya and, Terezi are nice, I guess, but they're freaky, also? Equius is still sort of mean to me and calls me a lowblood sometimes. I mean . . ." Tavros growled and facepalmed. "I mean!"

He was struggling for the words, beating himself up over it. It hurt you to see this. The voice inside your thinkpan attempted to soothe you, but it wasn't working. How could he have ended up so lonely? So isolated? He reminded you of an animal with a broken limb, left behind by its pack members.

"I mean . . ." He dragged the hand he facepalmed down roughly. "I was never, someone's top priority. Nepeta and Aradia have more important trolls in their life, I don't know Feferi all that well, and Gamzee's, Gamzee's, been avoiding me ever since I turned him down . . . I, uh, blend into the background. I don't, matter." Then he pointed at you uncertainly. "So, why did you, ask me . . . what was wrong? I mean, uh, you shouldn't care."

You stared at him in disbelief. Slowly, you raised your hand to point back at him. "Why wouldn't I ask? It's not as if I have any company 'sides Mindfang." As soon as the words left your throat, you were cursing mentally.

Summy, you realize I'm not real, right? I'm a figment of your imagin8ion. I don't exist. You killed the real Mindfang.

You are a lunatic. Maybe he didn't notice.

Yeah, no. Tavros is definitely looking at you funny, and you have a feeling that you will have to explain. Dammit, you were determined to keep this a secret. You hadn't wanted him to know you were a loon who talked to a dead person in his head - and took her advice, no less!

The persistent awkwardness returned as you floundered silently. Eventually, you took the easy out, though Mindfang's accusations of being a yellow-bellied, gutless coward protested against it. "Er, can't we talk about that later? We weren't talking about . . . that. We were talking about you and why I give a fuck about your well being! Let's, eh, talk about that."

The awkwardness was not subsiding. He kept staring at you with those wide, confused eyes flecked with copper.

You did what any troll would do: you began babbling. "I've been here for a long time, you know. There's not a lot to do besides fly around and talk to animals and stuff like that. Aranea has visited for a few months, but it's been sweeps and sweeps and sweeps and sweeps and sweeps until she arrived! It's been pretty lonely, although I love my animals and they're always fun to play with. I sort of got lonely, and began feeling guilty. Guilty about . . . You know what? That doesn't matter! Haha! So, uh, yeah if someone knew came around - like you - of course I'd be really excited and concerned over your health and wondering how your life is and what your personality and generally not freaking out about anything and oh god I don't even know what I'm saying and I haven't taken a breath since I started this sentence and . . . Um, okay, wow, I just need to shut up. I need to shut my trap and let you talk because you're starting to look even more freaked out and. And. Uh. I'm going to be quiet." You clamped your mouth closed, ceasing the torrent of words bubbling from your windpipe.

You were seriously tempted to take a flying leap off the spire and hide in a cave for a few days. Or weeks. Hey, who would blame you if you stayed there for a few sweeps? No one, that's who, because that was embarrassing.

And oh god, you're still wigging out in your thoughts.

When ten minutes passed and neither of you spoke, you were forced into breaking the silence. "I was being sincere when I said those things about being concerned about you. You're my descendant. Of course I'd be worried over your well-being. Sorry I'm giving you such a shitty first impression. I'm usually not like this."

He nodded in understanding. "Don't worry. I've, uh, seen worse first impressions." You expected him to leave it at that, until his face hardened and he nodded again. "I can, understand why you would want a friend. It's, um, sort of empty here. Sometimes it's easier . . . to pretend." He frowned. "I never knew Mindfang, but Aranea told us she was, your, matesprit. Right?"

You dipped your head. "Yeah, she was."

"She said, you killed her?"

"Yeah," you whispered, the pain and guilt setting in.

"I can tell you, uh, didn't want, to. Or, didn't mean to?"

"Ain't that basically the same reason?"

His gaze was strangely accusatory. "I suppose it could be, both." He shrugged. "I never knew, her. I knew Vriska. She's, uh, Mindfang's descendant. If we're actually related as, closely, as we think, then I can understand, why . . . you would want, to keep her close." He winced. "Was Mindfang hard to deal with?"

You snorted. "If you found 'difficult' in the dictionary, you would find a picture of one Marquise Spinneret Mindfang beside it. She was a handful. Had a good heart, underneath all her bluster. Used to lounge on my horns because she knew it annoyed me." You smiled a little and draped your arms over said horns, remembering the weight of the ex-pirate who once perched on them.

Tavros nodded yet again. "Vriska's like that, too. I know, somewhere, there's good. She's bad, at showing it, but I know it's, there. She's done some, uh, horrible things. I should forget, about her."

"Then you don't, 'cause she's already got you under her control without ever using her mind control magic," you finished for him.

"Exactly," he agreed. "They never understand, me when I try to, explain. They say, 'oh, uh, you just can't dislike what she, does and like her, for the things she doesn't do. It doesn't, work that way.' And I guess they're, right. I should forget about, her . . ."

"But you don't." You lean toward his slightly, raising an eyebrow. "She might do terrible things. Unspeakable things. But underneath that, you see a good troll. The problem is: how do you uncover that potential?"

"It's, uh, nigh impossible."

"You try anyways, because we with the bronze-blood are pretty idiotic."

"And, gullible," he added, his grin growing wider.

"Very gullible."

"So we, try to find that, good troll within."

"Sometimes it works." You brighten, thinking of Mindfang.

"Sometimes, it doesn't work." He dims as a contrast, probably thinking of failed attempts with this Vriska girl.

"Either way, eventually you find out what works. It might take time, but hell, life is pretty long in itself. We've got plenty of time to waste."

"Yeah."

"Yep."

Finally, there was a silence which was not awkward and nerve-racking. As you grinned at each other, there came a mutual understanding. You figured that Tavros might not be that confident, but he was a good kid. Confidence could change and hey, he had told you that you were nearly identical to his imaginary friend, Rufio. You could teach him to be confident. You could be his friend - and he could be your friend, too? That would be cool.

It's kind of sad how desperate for social interaction you are.

"So, you want to see Spite?" you inquired. "And Bull? The others, too?"

He glanced downwards, towards the surface. "Are they your animal friends?"

"Of course," you answered. "What else could possibly be here? If I had troll visitors, I would've introduced you a while ago, and I wouldn't have Mindfang's voice in my head." You tapped your temple for the added effect.

You were relieved that he didn't react when you mentioned that. It was rather embarrassing, not to mention made you look insane. However, as he lost interest in the landscape and began staring at you again, you realized you should not have breathed her name at all.

"Before we, uh, leave, can you answer a question?"

Your primal instincts instructed you to abscond. That would not help the situation, though, so you planted your feet firmly to the platform and replied nonchalantly. "Yeah?"

"Why, if you loved her, did you . . ." He locked up, tense, nervous, and unable to continue.

It didn't matter. You knew what he was asking, and you were fully aware that this would come up at some point. You sighed and gestured to the grassland below. "How about we sit down for this? It's not that long of a story, but I'd like to be comfortable while telling it."

He nodded, and didn't protest when you scooped him up and glided down, taking your dear sweet time. When you landed, you released him and plopped down in the grass, falling onto your back. He sat and after a moment, slowly pointed at your wings. "Doesn't that hurt?"

You settled your hands at the back of your head. "Huh?"

"Doesn't lying on your wings hurt?" He tentatively poked the closest one, as if afraid it would tear.

You laughed and waved a hand at him. "Kid, if these wings were as delicate as real flutterbeast wings, they would have been ripped off in the revolution or be torn to shreds in higher altitudes. They can be pierced, but they're tough and can handle some rough treatment. They've only gotten hurt once and that was when-" You interrupted yourself and closed your eyes. "Let's just say that the Grand Highblood didn't treat me too kindly after my revolution was squashed." Rage boiled in your blood from the mere mention of the vile creature. You would never forgive them. Never.

When he quieted, you took the incentive to begin your tale. "I was a wriggler when I decided I would revolt. The grassland I grew up in was isolated and teeming with life. I never truly knew what the hemospectrum was except for the occasional lessons from my lusus. The beasts I could speak with told me of countless cruelties involving the hemospectrum and the discrimination between blood colors. I learned my life would be limited and most likely terrible as a lowblood. It infuriated me. Over the sweeps, my hatred for the highbloods and the hemospectrum grew until I could barely think of them without shaking with anger.

"The first opportunity I got, I high-tailed it out of there and began gathering followers. I found much support from the lowbloods and . . . it started. I can't explain it much better than that. I, seven and a half sweeps, went into battle. I wasn't really a leader at that point, what with being so young, but I fully intended to be. They utilized my skills every chance they got, be it my communication with squeakbeasts to poison a highblood's meal or my flight to spy on the enemy from afar. On my adventures through the land, Bull, my lusus, was killed. However, I had to keep moving on.

"Sometime after Bull's death, I found a dragon. It was a lusus - I could tell from the pure white scales and apparently its charge had been killed. I named her Spite, because once when I was flying beside her, I called her spiteful, and she instantly perked up. Spite became this figure of death for the highbloods. She would strike fear into their hearts and make the lowbloods rejoice. That dragon probably killed more highbloods than me. She was almost a second lusus, the way she almost always kept close to me." You opened an eye to check on Tavros and he seemed rather confused. "What's up?"

"I was wondering, uh, what this had, to do with Mindfang, is all," he murmured, nearly unintelligible.

You smiled apologetically. "Sorry. Thought I would give you some back story, or answer some questions about my life since we were talking about her."

"Oh, that makes sense. This is interesting, I was just, wondering." He quickly gestured for you to go on.

"Thanks." You gathered your thoughts and started again. "Okay, so I found Spite when I was nine. I was basically the leader now, although an oliveblood technically had that position. He promised that when I turned ten, he would formally step down. Anyway, half-way through my ninth sweep, I was flying with Spite over a town when something came over me. You could say I was being . . .," you paused to raise an eyebrow dramatically, "possessed." After you earned a chuckle from Tavros, you returned to the story.

"I had no control over myself. I was freaking out, because I had never been possessed before. There was never a psychic strong enough to repress my mind. I fought tooth and claw to wiggle out its hold, but this was definitely a strong troll. I was forced to land in a clearing outside the town and there, waiting for me, was a ceruleanblood with long hair, vicious fangs, a blinded eye, and a robotic arm. When I landed, she did the weirdest thing. She released her mental grip on me and grinned.

"I will admit I was so shocked by this reaction I didn't do much. Mostly stared and wondered why the hell a highblood such as her would have orchestrated this. Before I could collect myself, she was beginning the introductions, telling me her name was 'the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang' and that she had been waiting for a very long time to meet me. She told me that she would rebel along with me, and that we would become very close. I was so confused that she wasn't murdering me, all I could do was keep staring. Then she strolled right up, linked arms with me, threw her other arm over my horn, and asked me where camp was. And something about her . . . I couldn't refuse the request. I walked into camp with a blueblood in tow and she was accepted into the revolution openly - after a three-day investigation of her sincerity.

"She became my closest friend and, eventually, my matesprit as well. Spite never trusted her, which made me nervous at first, but she glared at the dragon, too, so I guessed it was mutual, spontaneous hate. Mindfang confessed all the horrible things she'd done before she met me, but I never took it all that seriously. Sometimes in life, you have to do what you have to in order to survive. Also, she was a blueblood. Her lifespan was so long that that part of her life would have been my seventh or eighth sweep age-wise. She was foolish and ready to sake the bloodlust that all higher bloods seem to have. In short, she was the best troll I had ever met, if you discount her past and her arrogance.

"The revolution went on. As promised, on my tenth wriggling day the oliveblood stepped down. I was formally leading the rebellion. Me, Mindfang, Spite, and the army travelled across Alternia, winning and losing battles, and waging war on the highbloods.

"To avoid the drama and the build-up of tension, I'll skip to the punchline. We began losing. It started with Spite's death and spiraled downward from there. In the end, the Grand Highblood's army trapped us in a mountainous region where we had been hiding, and every troll was slaughtered, sans me and Mindfang. We were taken to the Grand Highblood's court and proven guilty.

"It was not an execution. It was not a simple decapitation or noose hanging 'round our necks. We were tortured. For how long, I don't know. It could have been sweeps or it could have been three days. They tore off our horns, splintered them directly at the base. They tore off my wings and gouged out her remaining eye. They inflicted so many wounds, I couldn't possibly list them all in a whole sweep. They restrained her mind powers using other psychics and with Spite gone, there was no creature that I could have called to help us.

"At some point, they gave me my lance and ordered me to kill her. She was so pitiful, so lost and dazed from loss of blood and being completely disoriented without her sight. I made it as painless as I could; struck directly through her heart. It was all I could do for her: the mercy of a swift death. As for me, I'd rather not recount how I died. It wasn't pleasant." You did not tell him in words, but when you traced the long scar on your stomach through your shirt, you might as well have added, "I was gutted like a fucking fish."

Tavros tilted his head at you. "You hate them a lot, don't you?"

"The highbloods? Yeah, I do," you spat, baring your teeth and snarling your words. "They killed me, my matesprit, my lusus, my followers, and they oppress every lowblood that happens to fall below them on the hemospectrum. They are the scum of Alternia. I loathe them more than anything else in the universe, especially the Grand Highblood."

He frowned. "Holding onto hatred . . . doesn't, help, you know. There's nothing, you can do."

"I know," you muttered.

"That doesn't . . . matter, to you."

"Tavros, I will hate them until I cease to exist, which apparently will be never, what with this dream bubble nonsense. They don't deserve to be forgiven."

He bit his lip and looked at the ground. "I . . . I g-guess so."

After that, the rest of Tavros's visit was spent exploring your dream bubble. It's filled with different types of wilderness, most of it comprised of the grasses of your home and the wilderness and hills you traveled through often. You introduced him to Spite, who was lurking in the woods, and Bull, a large . . . bull with flutterbeast wings that matched yours. There were multiple other animal friends to meet, and it was nice to have someone to share this with.

At some point, Mindfang's voice returned, throwing in her opinion and advising you on your next course of action. You were relieved that she hadn't disappeared forever. You honestly don't know what you would do if you didn't have a reminder that she had existed.

You learned quite a bit about him. You learned - or rather your assumptions were confirmed - that he was shy and had low self-esteem. He owned a lance similiar to yours, and had eleven friends, although he was convinced that none of them were that close to him.

He kept accidentally calling you Rufio. After the third or fourth slip, you chuckled, ruffled his hair, and told him it was fine if he called you that.

While you learned much about him, he was in the dark about you. He inquired, but you dodged the question or steered the conversation to him or the scenery or the animals. He never got frustrated, merely gave you this disappointed look every time you deflected the subject. It was eating you up inside.

You couldn't help it. The past was the past for a reason. Recalling it unnerved you and brought back memories that you would rather forget. Or maybe a more suitable explanation would be that you won't forget because you don't want to the memory of your loathing to fade. That hatred had been a part of you for as long as you had been alive. It was deep-seated in your identity. If you didn't hate them, what would you have in your life? What would be your purpose? To putter around endlessly in a bubble that you could never leave?

The kid didn't understand your struggle. You could help him, but he definitely could not help you.

Later, with an hour or so before Tavros would have to leave, you readdressed his self-esteem. Before you gone off on your Mindfang tangent, he had been demeaning himself, had been saying that he never was important to anybody. He was convinced that no one truly cared about him and had been convinced for so long, that when you showed persistent concern and nicety, he was confused and thrown off. Hopefully, you had knocked the idea that nobody cared out of his thinkpan. Even if it was true that he nobody's top priority, those sorts of ideas are never good for a troll to have.

Despite what he said to the contrary, you knew that someone in that group of friends had to see how great of a kid he was. He was so sweet and kind. His stutter was endearing, not off-putting, and the way he got flustered so easily was cute. At the end of the night - or day, whatever time it was - you were proud to call him your descendant.

You were on the top floor of your hive when Aranea arrived, along with a short troll in a long trench coat. Tavros introduced her as Nepeta, the silly cat troll whose ancestor was the Disciple - whoever that was.

You were sad to say to goodbye to him. Sincerely sad. It was hard not to gush about how you wished he would return as soon as possible. It was hard to see how achingly lonely you were until he arrived.

Instead, you made a request. "Do you think I could meet Vriska?"

You had wanted to say Mindfang. You wanted with every ounce of your soul to see her again, but you knew without Aranea ever having to tell you, that is impossible. Impossible. So maybe you could get the second best thing: her descendant. From Tavros's stories, they seemed so alike. Perhaps, if you couldn't have the original, you could have the knock-off?

He knew this. Slowly, he nodded and patted your shoulder as you had done to him on countless occasions tonight. "I'm, uh, sure we can, figure something out."

It wasn't exactly a yes, yet it made your heart soar with hope. You grinned wider than you have in a long while. "Well, I hope you come back soon. I'll miss you, kid." You gripped his shoulder and he tightened his grip just as forcefully.

"I'll see, you soon," he promised. "Until then?"

"Until then."

He let you go and strolled away, leaving you alone.

You had been a social troll your entire life. Living alone was a harsh blow that you had come to terms with over hundreds of sweeps. It wasn't until Tavros showed up that you realized how cold and empty this afterlife had been, and how perfectly miserable you felt.

You were miserable about everything.

Tavros's visit had reawakened all of those things you were miserable about, including Mindfang, your guilt over her death, your isolation, everything.

Instead of helping you, he had hurt you. Made you realize how pathetic this all was. It wasn't worth existing for.

You wished that when you had died, you hadn't been zapped to some crazy, dream bubble world where the woman you loved could possibly be a few miles away. You wished you had died, and had never come back. Just stopped existing entirely.

With a heavy sigh, you spread your wings and took off.

A flight in the memory clouds might make you feel less shitty.

End Note: Yes, the Ancestors are not creative with the nicknames for their matesprits. However, you have to admit that they are adorable - or at least in my opinion.

I would like to give you some extra information on the Ancestors, just some extra info. Every Ancestor has a problem, some more obvious and terrible than others. For instance, the Disciple has an obvious problem: her memory (also, she is haunted by the trolls she knew when she was alive). The Summoner, however, has a less subtle problem: his hatred. In order to be healthy, he needs to let go of his hatred for the highbloods.

Once the Ancestors have discovered their problem or found a solution, you will see the ending that the Disciple had. However, the Summoner will be a tougher nut to crack.