#parcae

That’s another change, imperfections decorate the violet blood in a map that tells the story of where he has been. Of who he is now. A fractured horn and torn ear and fin. This is not the Velrum that disappeared all of those sweeps ago.

Zurven should be surprised, but he knew what to expect. Harlan’s intervention made sure of it. 

Velrum waves a three fingered hand as he comes closer, and he tries not to let his stare linger. But the gold band around the middle digit draws the eye with the way the twin moons shine off of it. The seadweller does not seem bothered.

“Zurven, is that you?” Even his voice doesn’t ring with the same uptight, strictness that it did in the past. Instead, it seems light. Free of burden. He comes to sit and lets one of his legs dangle over the sea below.

Though neither of their feet touch the water, Zurven cannot help but notice how much further his own is away from it.

“Wow, how long has it been?”

The smaller troll makes like he is looking at a watch that isn’t there and shrugs.

Velrum laughs.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m glad to see you..” He pauses to get a good look at him. “Out. Away from all of that.”

The sailor sounds unsure as he speaks, each of the six words enunciated slowly. Worry almost creases his brow.

A quick nod assuages his fear and he lets out a quick sigh.

“Good. It was a fucked up situation.”

“No kidding.” Zurven sighs. “How did you do it?”

“Hm?”

“Move on from everything.”

Velrum seems taken aback by the question. Anyone who knows anything about Zurven would guess that he would sooner swallow his tongue than choose to speak about this for longer than necessary. Even someone who hasn’t seen the brown blood since he was six sweeps old.

The seadweller runs a hand through his hair, knocking it so it cascades down along his back instead of over his shoulder. It frames his face in a way that makes him look much older than he is.

“Zurven,” he starts, moving to take one of his hands between both of his. The metal of his jewelry feels cool against the smaller troll’s skin. “Time is a weird thing.”

Zurven's laugh is breathless.

“Tell me about it.”

The response he receives is a squeeze, one designed to keep him grounded.

“Time and space are a wonderful tool. They will not heal all of your wounds. They can only provide you with the chance to come to terms with them.”

“That’s what people say. All the time, it’s what they say.”

“It’s hard as hell, Zurv.”

“Doable?”

“I didn’t say impossible, kid.”

Zurven swallows his uncertainty, not really sure what he was expecting to hear in the first place.

The Soldier

Koteus is much easier to track down, despite the claims that he is all but a hermit now. The seadweller lived in the same hive, surrounded by dense forest and an expansive lake from the time he was discharged from the fleet. What is surprising, however, is the sprawling garden that hugs around a considerable length of the hive, and the lively sheet moss that grows up the wall that the hive shares with the garden.

It is a sight to behold.

Certainly not one anyone would expect a so-called shut in to keep up with. Zurven sucks in a deep breath, admiring the warmth of the garden as it brings him to life.

“Hey kid, y’lost or somethin’?” Calls out a yellow blood from the front door, he waves a robotic hand in the air to get his attention.

The brown blood blinks back at him, kicking himself internally for neglecting to account for hivemates when setting out for this trip.

“I’m just here to see Koteus.” He finally says, when the silence blankets them the same way the moss did the residence. “It’s been a while.”

“‘Course you are,” The stranger starts, then pauses to look at a display on his arm. Finally, he motions for him to follow him as he moves back into the hive. “C’mon.”

Zurven nods and toddles along after him.

The yellow blood leads him through a front room and a living room first, where he takes in all the sights the home has to offer. The most important thing he could note was that there were family pictures littered throughout the two rooms. All sorts of faces smiled back at him, with each other, as the pair made their way into a kitchen much larger than he would know what to do with.

“Little man!” A familiar voice calls out and draws his attention to an island at its center.

Standing there beside it is Koteus, a bright smile on his face and a curtain of dreads that threaten to kiss the floor despite much of it being tied up into a bun. The tattoo on his face obscures much of his expression, but it is easy to tell he is happy.

“Little is right.” The cyborg emphasizes as he exits the way they entered.

Zurven can’t find it in him to be offended by the sentiment, he is easily the shortest person in the room. Aside from the very small human that sits on the counter, handing Koteus bowls of varying sizes with great enthusiasm.

She uses a free hand to wave at him.

“Jessie, Zurven. Zurven, Jessie.”

“Hi!” Jessie beams, pointing at Zurven and then her own chest. “Your sign?”

“Horologium.” He says pulling the hoodie he’d stolen from his partner tighter around his shoulders, suddenly incredibly self conscious. “It’s a clock.”

“Har-go-lum!” Jessie shouts as she clasps her hands together before getting back to her very serious job of handing the violet blood her bowls. 

“Hawr-uh-lo-jee-um.” He says, slowly this time.

She nods with vigor and goes on to mouth the word Horologium to herself, going through the motions of learning a new difficult word.

He is momentarily taken back to a time when the name of his own sign was foreign to him. Five sweeps old when he learned what to call it, how to pronounce it. Thuein and Lopard were patient, but the pity they felt reigned in their eyes.

A human will learn how to say it better before she hits three sweeps.

Dwelling doesn’t last long, Koteus’s voice fills the room again and brings him back from his thoughts.

“Had I known you wanted to meet, I could have met you somewhere more convenient.” His voice is apologetic. “Middle of nowhere is a little out of the way, yeah?”

“I think I needed the trip.” He admits.

“Clear skies’ll cure a cluttered mind like nothing else.” The seadweller says as he lifts the young human off of the counter and sets her on her feet.  “Something on your mind?”

“I think so. If you have time.”

Koteus watches as Jessie quickly finds her way to the entrance of the kitchen and disappears further into the hive. He smiles.

“A spot just opened up.”

Despite his time in the fleet, Koteus’s scars are not physical ones. The only markings on his skin are the tattoos he received from the planet he was stationed on. But the scars on his heart, Zurven thinks, must be innumerable. Impossible to count. Heavy.

He leads Zurven to the table and they sit across from each other.

Koteus looks wiser than he would ever care to admit. Always said wisdom means you’re old.

“Lay it on me, little man.”

“You’ve uh. You’ve been through a lot, right?”

“Nothing I didn’t sign up for.” He sighs. “But yeah.”

“Doesn’t it weigh a ton? How do you–”

“Carry it all?” He interjects, voice soft.

Zurven nods slowly.

The soldier leans forward, causing the beads clinging to his dreads to knock against the table between them.

“Not all at once, and never on my own.” He whispers, and the safety of Benjins hoodie starts to feel more real.

The Magician

There is a market in the city, filled with fresh produce from the grounds of the House of Restoration and other goods ferried from parts of Alternia the typical city dweller would never find the time to visit.

Zurven stands among the produce, fighting hard to remember the instructions given to him by Achina on how to pick out the perfect avocado. He is fairly certain the one in his hand is hard enough to give someone a concussion.

“Nah, brother. You try ‘n eat somethin’ that unripe it’ll knock your teeth right outta your skull.”

Zurvens gaze drifts from the rock in his hand to the observer he must have been preventing from getting one of his own.

“Think ya’ gotta put it in a paper bag to make it ripe faster or somethin’. Unless you’re tryin’a--“

The purple blood stops cold as they lock eyes, the recognition on either side is instantaneous. The swirly face paint that starts at the tip of his nose and spirals outward takes Zurven back to a place he doesn’t want to be and he gives the avocado a harsh squeeze. Hard as a baseball, it does not yield to his attempted mutilation.

“Shit! Little fuckin’, Curly top? Zurven? Damn! You grown up, huh?” The clown sputters out clumsily, measuring Zurven up with his hand as he does.

“Didn’t see you none once the. Well, y’know.” He says as he mimes a hand over his left eye, mimicking the trauma Persep subjected his illusionist friend to. “And you’re all out and about and shit, huh?”

“It’s nice to see you too, Parcae.” Zurven mumbles, resisting the urge that threatens to pull his thoughts back to the past. “You’re always so peppy, despite everything. That’s a real wonder to me-- “

The brown blood is cut off by the magician as he scoops him up into his arms and crushes him close against his chest.

Zurven goes stiff.

“Nah, we ain’t talkin’ about me. We’re talking about you!” He does not seem to care that the display is causing his suit jacket to wrinkle. Not that that really comes as a surprise. “Been thinkin’ about you, brother. Always wanted to scoop y’up like that and let ya know how you were always stronger than you shoulda had to be and shit.”

He says nothing.

“Y’know? I’m thinkin’ you’re one a the strongest guys I ever met. I’m thinkin’ you could survive anything, brother.”