#grandedameaupair

After more than an hour of speaking to Karkat on the phone, you finally make up an excuse to leave, not really able to keep it together after everything he’s told you. Right before you go to hang up, you feel something seize up in your chest, and you hesitate.

“–Karkat?”

“Good– Huh?”

“…Nothing. Good light.”

“…Good light.”

You select “end call”, put your glasses into standby mode, and bury your face in one hand as the last embers of your cigarette – only one of many you’ve needed to get through this evening – dance around the fingertips of your other.

You were going to go on a date with Feferi – you were excited to go on a date with Feferi! She spoke so kindly to you – even past the bullshit facade she puts on for the sake of her job, you can tell that she means it, tell that she’s nervous and genuinely sweet underneath the surface. How could…

How could she be so sweet to you when she ruined Karkat’s life so thoroughly?

You scrub away at the tears that prickle at the corners of your eyes before they have a real chance to form, leaning against the apartment balcony that overlooks the city for support. Your cigarette stub gets flicked down into the alley below before it can singe your fingers, and then you take a deep, deep breath to keep yourself from crying any further. God, you’ve missed so much. The Karkat you remember was quiet, sweet, lonely, and so, so shy, with the occasional penchant for getting into fights and a hair-trigger temper based in as much of shame as it was in pride. It must have killed him to have his trust betrayed so thoroughly. It must have killed him so much more to lose his privacy than to lose his pride. You didn’t know how much he lost period, with Terezi and Kanaya and Nepeta being gone as well. Oh god, and the way he spoke about losing Aradia, about when he lost –

No. Not you. He didn’t lose you. You aren’t Sollux to him. 

You’re just Altair.

You remember the pain in his voice when he talked about how innocent and naive you were, and how you almost said “I love you” when he did, and you can’t help but break. 

You cry into your hands quietly, not wanting to awake Aradia sleeping on the couch just inside. You miss your best friend so much. All you wish is that you could take some of his pain away.

And at this point, you can’t cancel with Feferi. Tomorrow, you’re going to have to look Feferi in the eyes knowing what she did to ruin Karkat’s life.

> You were so worried about her being here, but... she's not terribly obtrusive, like you were worried she'd be, and she just wants to make your life better. She wants to make both your lives better.

> ...

You’ve kept in contact with Kanaya for a very long time. You wouldn’t hesistate to say she’s your best friend, part of a pinky-swear coven formed when the two of you had barely formed pinkies to swear with. You lived together, once, but the collective of tech-resistant hippies in the forest became too unbearable a miasma for you to deal with. Too much fear, too much resistance to simple things. Your iconic LED shades would probably get you killed, if you went back.

Kanaya was happy there, though. You left, she stayed. You promised to keep in touch through letters, hoping not to provoke the ire of your former community. Carnelian’s translucent pink little claws wrap around your rolled parchment -- you burn the edges a little and dye the paper with coffee so it looks like ancient scroll -- and with the promise of treats when she comes back, your lusus slips out the open window and flutters down into the forest on iridescent wings.

You go around the hive, gather up bits and bobs from here and there, not having to use your scanner to locate certain things. Your fingers recognize the subtly different shapes of your tumbled gems, all sorts of quartz you’ve found on the mountain, river rocks you liked the texture of, a large hagstone. You run your thumb along the hole in the latter, just admiring the texture. Of the objects you’re most happy with, your hagstone and black mirror are among your favorites, but you rarely use them as intended. Even candlelight feels too bright, at times; you feel your senses are best utilized without your eyes.

You’re coding a hex when Carnelian returns to you, the herbs and bones all bagged up and ready to go, just waiting for the nanobots to be programmed before you can tie it off and store it. You hear a soft whistle and a steady thrum of wings, and you stand to hold your hands out for the letter. You notice... a smoky smell, though you had extinguished your candles hours ago. A scroll drops into your hands, and you toss your glasses onto your bed, slipping your blindfold off. This is one of the only things you’ll use your eyes for. You tried scanning Kanaya’s first letter to you, but it felt hollow when read out in your scanner’s tinny, matter-of-fact voice. 

You have to squint to adjust to the light, but you’re immediately put off when you really feel the texture in your hands. The paper is brown and stained, and when you unroll the parchment, it’s penned in sloppy maroon ink.

It’s more burnt than it was when you gave it to your lusus.

Oliveblood culture is:

eating plastic

championing mud pie fights

Thats The Opposite Of Self Care

Karkat Its Too Early/Late For Th3s3 Sorts Of Posts

WHO CARES WHAT TIME IT IS?