{END OF ACT ONE.}
-Congratulations. You have made it to the end of the first Act. Just to Recap, here's what you missed: Earth is now destroyed due to a video game called "SBURB", being run, and it's only survivors are four teenagers. The four teens are pretty much horrible people themselves. But don't worry. They will all die eventually.-
On Prospit, Youtube's dream self opens her eyes for the first time. Her room is a mirror image of the one she had on Earth, tiny and cramped. Everything is made of either yellow brick, yellow plastic, or yellow glass.
Wandering to the window, she tries not to care about the yellow pant-shirt matching thing she's wearing, but quite likes the light blue shoes.
Her window gives a view of something big and blue. Skaia's clouds slide slowly, reflecting. Youtube notices a bright flash of red and the outline of glasses, but it feels like cheating to know this beforehand.
She can't find the door out of her room, so she jumps out the window. She floats, flies, screaming joy, stopping dead short of Skaia, when she realizes how quiet things are.
Floating back to the ground, Youtube tries to think of what's different.
She can't hear the voices. They can't reach her here.
Everything is quiet. Beautifully, quaintly quiet. No anger. No hate. Just her own thoughts.
Looking around at the crowd of aliens she's unwittingly touched down in front of, she pulls the sleeves of her dress over her hands, looks to the ground.
The inhabitants of Prospit are crablike, blank little carapaces who pass no judgement. They reach out, dragging Youtube's arms out of her sleeves. The stark whiteness of their shells match Youtube's skin. Her red irises are not looked down upon. They run their stubby three-fingered hands over the scars on her hands, looking concerned and curious. They don't say anything, but they make clicking sounds, running hands over Youtube's scars, her eyelids, her matching-skin.
And she cries. She cries and she can't make herself stop.
Meanwhile, in a galaxy, far, far away, a conversation is had between two people.
"I just don't think this is a good idea," says the first one. She has blue hair, and the empty frames of her glasses rest on her nose.
"What other options do we have?" asks the second softly. His shaggy brown hair hangs in his face, and his glasses are prescription. He is leaning against a tree.
"We'll figure something out. There's always something. Always. Like how in Once Upon A Time and Doctor Who they always manage to find each other. There's always other options," says the girl, biting her nails.
The boy looks at her. "What's Doctor Who?"
"What?! After all this, you still haven't seen Doctor Who? What the fuck is wrong with you, you moron?!" she shrieks, exploding into rage at a moment's notice.
The boy raises his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay, calm down," he says, then starts to smile. "No need to do an acrobatic pirouette off the fucking handle."
She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Always the fucking Homestuck references with you."
There's a silence. Neither is willing to take the lead on this.
"Our session's doomed. We know that. Hashtag: Dead for Reals," says the girl.
"No kidding. We hass no knight. But this one does."
"Don't say 'hass'. It's so 2006."
"Think it through, though. If we combine sessions, we have a chance. They don't have a space player, and we do," the boy says, pushing his glasses up further up his face. The girl nods. As the Space player, she can't really correct him. Besides, his theory's sound.
"Fine. Have it your way. We contact them. But it'll screw up. Trust me."
Content at having the final word, the girl clicks her heels together, activating the built-in rockets she installed in her thigh-high stockings. They took a lot of goddamn grist to make, but they are really really cool.
Or, at least, they make the user feel really, really cool.
The boy watches the girl go spiraling away. He gives a half-hearted wave, but she doesn't wave back. He didn't really expect her to, but it sort of feels nice.