Thank the Empress or whoever else that you’d gotten better control of your emotion-based shifting. Panic stole your voice but didn’t turn you into a dog! You did, however, drop the bag of microwave rice you had been eating. Sirens were blaring in your head and telling you to run. You were never a runner. But the man before you, with his knowing eyes and silent smile, was the scariest fucking thing you had ever witnessed. 

“Jawska? Hello, hello,” For a man with such a large size, he had such a gentle voice. It was almost more unnerving. “May I come in?” 

Did you have a fucking choice? 

You nodded sheepishly, bending down to pick up your ruined rice. The larger troll had to duck into your apartment. You gestured weakly towards your meager apartment. There was little here to sit on, you never had guests, especially none of his size. This didn’t bother him much. He took off his coat and sat at your small dining table. Memories of MegaDad warning you of your ancestor, a large seadweller with dark mysterious eyes and an affinity for violence, rose to the forefront of your mind. This wasn’t a very violent situation yet. Was he planning something? Is he going to make you sign away your life?

You sat across from him. Staring at him with wide, horrified eyes. The silence was thick. 

“You were quite difficult to find, little one.” The older troll starts once again. His eyes aren’t dark, but they are mysterious. It dawns on you that you’ve never actually seen your ancestor. “Jawska Monark was a three sweep old, thriving with his lusus, in his schoolfeeding, until one day…he just…disappears. A missing wriggler. The Empire sent search parties, you know. Trolls did look, and they found nothing! You were presumed dead for quite some time!” He almost sounded fascinated. Truthfully, you hadn’t the slightest clue how you avoided everyone’s eyes. 

“Presumed deceased…until you popped up one day! I started my search then, you know. When you appeared in the background of that little fashion contest. With Mr. Flarin, correct? He’s quite the artist, I enjoyed watching his work.” You were almost convinced he was genuine. Fear was still heavy in your expression. He knew of Sionah, which meant he knew about Meyers and Amentu and Hiroea too, right? That was how those Fleet fuckers worked. They found what you loved and used it against you. Fear was quickly turning into anger. 

“I began looking, only to be shut down by the medical reports of your actual death. A horrible shock; I was devastated. Thankfully, I’ve got friends in low places. Otherwise I would’ve missed this wonderful opportunity.” Fuck, why was his smile so…genuine? 

You stare at him wide-eyed and silent. Several beats of thick silence pass before he speaks up again. 

“Oh god Messiahs, forgive me! I’ve yet to tell you my name.” He laughs softly. For some reason, his laughter sparks a light and bubbly feeling in your chest, inspiring you to laugh softly as well. It was almost calming. He extends a hand over the table, “I am Her Beloved Annihilation, though you may call me any variant of Annihilation that you may wish. I am your ancestor’s ancestor.” 

It takes a second for his words to sink in. As they do, you slowly shake his hand in return. You finally find your voice as your anger rises. 

“...Is that supposed to be reassuring?” Honestly, though. How was the title of Annihilation supposed to ease your nerves? The larger fuchsia looks confused for a moment, allowing you the chance to act. You’re quick to your feet, drawing a switchblade from your waistband. It opens with a satisfying click. You hold it defensively, taking a cautious step back. 

“I’m not going into the Fleet.” You state firmly, “ I don’t care who - or what - you are, I ain’t fucking going.” 

Annihilation looks at your blade, then to you. He doesn’t seem the slightest bit affected by the situation. If anything, he’s almost more concerned than before. It's as if the gears in his head are turning. Calculating his next move. His next words. Finally, he draws a long sigh. 

“Oh, Jawska,” your name rolls off his tongue so easily, spoken with such love and compassion. How someone who has never met you could hold such love when he says your name. Your confidence starts to shake. As does the hand holding your blade. “You’ve never spent a second on that man’s ship, and yet he’s terrified you so.” 

You blink in confusion, hand lowering slightly. 

“The Fleet is no place for you. I’ve no intention of dragging any poor soul there, let alone you. I’m here today to talk about your ancestor, the Imperial Deepbite, as you might know him. I was hoping having escaped his grasp that you were spared from the horrors…I see I was wrong.” For some stupid, foolish reason, you find yourself believing him. Slowly, you take your seat again. The blade remains in your hand, on the table, a reminder to both present of what you would do. 

“I had hoped so deeply that the world would be kinder to you.” He looks you up and down, a deep sorrow replacing his confused expression, “Such was not the fate. I am sorry the world mistreated you so. I’m sorry the world and I failed you.” 

What an uncomfortable feeling, someone apologizing to you for the shitty cards you were dealt. 

“You’ve no reason to tell me a thing, little one. I am here to listen, I am here to care. If at any point you wish for me to leave, I will do so without hesitation.” His words are heavy, almost comforting. You trusted him. You had to, right? He was here, in your fucking apartment. He had worked so hard to find you. “I know of the abuse Deepbite inflicted upon others, but I see his absence in your life was no better. Even believing you were dead, that man still robbed you of a childhood. The wounds still run deep. You do not know me, and it is not my place, but I am here to listen if you’ll have me.” 

He extends his hand across the table, holding it out to you. His smile is soft, sad. For a moment, the moonlight illuminated his soft features. The kiss of wrinkles along his face, the fins as tattered as your own, the scars he didn’t try to hide, the story behind his eyes. The world had not been kind to you, just as it hadn’t been kind to him. 

Others had told you that you were given a bad hand in life. Meyers especially, when she was trying to encourage you to be braver. There was just something different when Annihilation said it. [elaborate] 

Slowly, you let go of the blade, and rest your robotic hand on his scarred one. You stared at your hands together, and somehow, by some grace, felt the warmth on your palm. 

“You don’t have to live in survival mode anymore, my dear.” 

“....How?” You barely choke the word out, finally meeting his warm gaze. 

Her Beloved Annihilation smiles at you. There’s exhaustion in his eyes, but love in his smile. You feel warm in his gaze. 

“You’re a Monark, my love. You can do anything. Let yourself lean on those who love you. Hold your love close to your heart and use it to keep going. Let yourself relax, enjoy the small things, and smile. Take your time. The world is not out to get you anymore. You can settle. You can be happy. It’ll take time, my boy, but you’ll get there. You are a Monark, after all.”

This wasn’t your hive. A gentle hand rests on your thigh. A voice tells you to calm down. How could you calm down? Your eyes trail up the arm to rest on an unfamiliar jadeblood’s face. She smiles. It’s a soft expression, somewhat comforting. She tells you to breathe with her, and models it for you. You feel shaky as you mimic her. But it helps. Still, the fog in your head doesn’t quite clear.

Her hand moves to your chest, gently pushing you back to laying down. You want to reach up and swat her away. But nothing happens. It's as if there’s nothing there. No hand to push her away. You start to look towards your arm, but she’s quick to cup your face and make you look at her. She shakes her head softly, and tells you to rest. Before you can open your mouth to argue with her, another troll appears. They look like a nurse of some sort, complete with a surgical mask. That does little to ease your worries.

It won’t matter for long, of course. The nurse rests their hand on your forehead and tells you to sleep. The world goes dark.

And that was the longest you would be awake for a while.

It seemed like all you did was sleep. You’d wake up several times, each one with the same level of agony. Be awake just long enough to vocalize your pain. Sometimes you saw new faces- other jadebloods, some highbloods, but nobody you knew. Each time you’d wake up, they would call for the nurse. And you’d be put to sleep again before you could argue. At first, you appreciated it. Being asleep was better than being awake. Your dreams were nostalgic and sweet, so sickeningly realistic that you almost thought they were reality. You’d dream of dinners with Apaati, eating all your favorite foods. Spending the day at your kismesis’ overpriced hive, pestering him as he worked. Being alone in your own hive. Watching movies with Sionah. But it became apparent that these were dreams. Things were just slightly off, as if you couldn’t quite remember it properly until you saw it.

The final time you wake, nothing is burning. You jolt upright. The absence of pain is almost worse than the pain itself. It’s jarring, so much so that you don’t hear the jadeblood speaking to you again. You blink as you glance around the room. It's less bright this time, but you’re finally able to confirm this as a medical setting. Your head jerks around as you hear your name again, just in time to see the nurse’s hand reaching for you again.

You grab their arm, holding it hostage in the space above your face. You’re just as shocked as they are, but the confusion melts in an instant, replaced by anger. You tighten your grip on their arm to watch their face twist in pain. They claw at your hand helplessly.

“Where the fuck am I?” The words come out as a growl. They start to buckle under your grip. You ignore your name being said. There is only anger, and olive blood seeping beneath your fingernails.

You only let go when someone grabs your face and forces you to break eye contact.

“That is enough.” Milky jade eyes bore into your own. You feel like a scolded wriggler, arm returning to your side. The jadeblood finally smiles and releases your face.

“I know you’re upset and confused, Jawska. I would be too.” There’s something about her tone that does make you feel better. She cups your cheek gently with a look of understanding, “You’ll be okay. I assure you of that.”

Finally, she lets you go and steps back. You’re able to take in the whole room better now. God, you’ve created quite the scene, haven’t you? There’s three jadebloods now, each looking at you with different expressions.

“My name is Sinopa. My moirail Storme brought you to Dr. Needle, who patched you up.” The milky-eyed jade, Sinopa, directs your attention to each troll as she calls their name.

You open your mouth to speak, but find yourself quiet. There’s too many questions. For a moment, it felt like you might cry. There was a comfort in their faces but they weren’t the faces you wanted to see. Sinopa must’ve noticed, because she shook her head.

“We’ll be having none of that, boy. Not when you’ve made it so far. You didn’t even notice your arms were working.”

Confused silence follows. You raise a hand into view. It isn’t your hand, but it’s moving, which is an improvement. Flecks of olive blood have already dried on the white metal fingertips. There’s no grey skin stained with ink, only clean white metal. You wiggle your fingers. The movement is choppy and delayed, but its movement. Not pain. Your head starts to feel dizzy and foggy once again.

“How are you feeling?” The man- Storme, you think it was- finally spoke up. You responded with a tired groan. That got a chuckle out of him. Sinopa stepped out of the way, allowing her moirail to come forward and take your hand. It felt strange. You couldn’t feel his grip, but you knew it was strong. And somehow still felt comforted.

“Does anything hurt? Are you hungry? What can we get for ya?” Storme lowered your hand into your lap but kept your fingers tangled in his own.

You look down at your hands. A moment of silence passes as you now realize you’re missing more than just your hands. A rather sick feeling starts to settle in your stomach. To everyone else in the room, it feels like eternity before you speak again.