Chapter Text
TEREZI
She was always more into her ancestry than you were. Sure, you take pride in the deeds of your ancestor, but Vriska’s admiration towards hers seem to be along the lines of worship. You didn’t judge, of course, Spinneret Mindfang was kind of cool (emphasis on the ‘kind of,’) and while watching the cobalt blooded troll pose in her oversized coat and pirate hat, you almost couldn’t tell the difference between the two. The almost being decided by how her hands barely reached passed the coats cuff, and the hat consistently slipping over her eyes. Her smirk decorated with two sharp fangs and dark blue lipstick was an exact match, however, and Vriska didn’t seem to mind adjusting her hat every 3 seconds.
Your outfit on the other hand, fit perfectly. When you emailed your drawn design as well as your measurements to your friend, Kanaya, she was more than happy to sew it for you. And she did a really good job despite your poor artisanship. Kanaya offered to sew Vriska’s clothes too, but was turned down. Vriska insisted on wearing the one that was wrapped around Marquise Spinneret’s journal when she first discovered it. The coat was very worn, had holes in it, smelt strongly of dust and decay (and a hint of ale) and was way too big for the young troll. More things that Vriska didn’t seem to mind. Though she didn’t say it, you knew that she probably thought wearing the coat made her look bigger and tougher, but really it made her look silly. You decided not to tell her that.
“ I know I look great and all, but do you really have to stare like that? ”
You’re sitting cross legged, cane neatly resting across your lap when Vriska’s voice tore through your thoughts. You peer up at her through your cherry shades. The red glass tint your surroundings so it always looks like sunset, and you like that. Vriska likes to tell you that they looked dumb, which you found funny since she always said while also wearing her stupid pirate hat. Sometimes she’d even wear a hook. ‘Really Vriska?’ you’d say. ‘A hook?’ The pretend-pirate just glared daggers at you.
She snaps her fingers several times close to your face.
“ Really? You’re spacing out again? I know you’re stressing over how you’ll arrange your dragon dorks for your next court session when you get home, but right now we’re on a mission! So focus, TZ! “
“ Sorry, I must have gotten distracted while you were busy monologuing. “
“ I wasn’t monologuing, dumpass. “ She scoffed, “ I was recapitulating the procedure of the rustblood’s execution. “
That got your attention. “ Wait, what? “
Using your cane for leverage, you scramble to your feet just as Vriska starts descending the stairs leading to the subterranean room. Oops, you mean The Room of Judgement. You scurry after her, your red boots squeaking with every step. Maybe you do polish them too much. A tremor shakes the staircase, and you nearly crash into Vriska as you follow her down. Her lusus always gets rowdy when it’s hungry. You used to think that the cracks and fractures present throughout her hive was just an effect of time. Then Vriska introduced you to ‘Spidermom.’ Vriska, obviously used to the spider’s tantrums, doesn’t waver in her descent whatsoever.
“ Vriska. “
No answer.
“ Vriska! “
Okay, she’s definitely ignoring you. Not this again.
“ Vriska, you’re talking about the one with the crooked horn, right? We agreed to let that one go! “
The other troll didn’t bother to stop walking while she replied. You had to strain to hear her over the tremors outside.
“ You wanted to let him go. I know you have a soft spot for lowbloods, but a crime is a crime! You should understand that more than anyone, legislacerator. “
“ Looking at you the ‘wrong way’ isn’t a crime, Vris. “
“ It is when you’re a highblood! “
“ Now you sound like Equius. I know you have to feed your fat lusus, but we agreed guilty trolls only! Not trolls that mildly pissed you off! “
The two of you finally reach the bottom. Vriska’s castle-esque hive with several steep spiraling staircases always annoyed the hell out of you. The troll in question sat against the far wall of the room. His wounds must have reopened from struggling; you could see his crimson blood discoloring the rope that bound him, and seep onto the floor to join the blood stains of previous prisoners. The floor looks as if it was painted tie dye, reds and yellows and even some greens smeared across the dark concrete. It would have been pretty if the art wasn’t so gruesome, and the artists so deadly.
Upon seeing them enter, the rustblood starts to struggle again. The rag used to gag him muffles every cry for mercy he emits. You can’t imagine what he must be thinking, seeing a poorly dressed pirate as one captor and a troll dressed in a tight red/teal suit as the other. Death is death, you suppose, no matter how the reapers are dressed. The prisoner must get that too, because he looks absolutely terrified. Vriska ignores him, her attention fully on you. She’s got that look in her eye, a look that you haven’t fully deciphered yet. But it’s the kind of look that makes you wonder if she’s considering you as her lusus’ next meal.
“ We’re supposed to be a team, Pyrope! You’re supposed to have my back! No one’s going to miss him, it’s not like there isn’t a plethora of lowbloods on this planet! “
“ It’s not about how many there are, or who will miss him! It’s about killing someone who didn’t do anything wrong, that isn’t justice!”
Vriska opens her mouth, but all you hear is the sound of rock collapsing and shattering as another tremor strikes the hive.
You’re both silent as you wait for the floor to stop quaking. Even the rustblood ceases his whimpering at the boom of the rockslide. Vriska simply gestures towards the source of the noise, looking at you with a challenging glint in her eyes.
“ If you want to step outside and explain to my lusus that she can’t eat in the name of justice, then go right ahead. But just as a heads up, I have a feeling that she doesn’t give a single fuck about the law. “
You don’t argue with her on this. You can’t argue with her on this. You hate to admit it, but letting her lusus go without dinner will probably lead to the destruction of her hive (and possibly Vriska herself,) and unless you decide you’re feeling suicidal, the only remaining option is the lowblood. It must be distressingly awful to have to feed your lusus whose diet consists of mostly trolls, so it’s no wonder that Vriska is completely numb to the idea of putting lives on a silver platter. She’s been doing this her whole life. You always try to understand that, but it sure as fuck isn’t easy. It never was.
Vriska takes your silence as an answer, and goes to the grab the prisoner by his horn to present him to her lusus. You don’t look as the troll twists violently in her grip, or screams against the gag. You don’t look as she drags him back up the stairs, leaving streaks of crimson as they go. It isn’t until the muffled screams have faded a little that you start to walk the red trail. You take your glasses off, suddenly repulsed by the color.
This one is going to haunt you for a while.