The two Capricorn children walk along the sand, waves crashing against their bare ankles like a playful pet being ignored and desperate for attention. Their small footprints trail over the grains, leaving hardly any indentation to show they had been there. The smaller troll, younger by nearly two and a half sweeps, nudges a sand crab with his toe and watches as it scuttles away from him, his hand firmly grasping his invertibrother's own.
"Kurloz?"
"Hm?" The taller boy looks down, but can't see Gamzee's face past the wild mop of hair hiding his downturned face.
"You think I'll ever see him again?" He was, of course, referring to his moirail, Karkat Vantas, whom had been sent away on a whim with his family by their own father, the Grand Highblood. The reasons were unapparent to them all.
"I don't know, Gamzee. I don't see why you won't." The small Capricorn looks out toward the ocean they are skirting.
"I hope so. I really miss him." Kurloz gives his hand a squeeze, trying to cheer him up. He would have said something too, if a large stone hadn't collided with the back of his head. He rubs the back of his skull and looks around, spotting a group of human boys nearby who are laughing. Gamzee looks at them in confusion, then down at the rock.
"Go back to your own planet, you freaks!"
"Hey now," Gamzee interjects, stepping forward. "Why can't we all up and be motherfucking friends? You don't need to be throwing rocks and stuff."
"Why would we be friends with you? My mom says you got horns because you're demons from hell. And that you're evil."
"Well, that ain't motherfucking nice. We aren't demons, bro, we're trolls!"
"Like the kind that hide under bridges and eat anyone who passes over them?"
Gamzee pauses and looks to Kurloz. "There aren't no trolls that up and do that, are there?" Kurloz shakes his head and tries to lead Gamzee away. Another stone hits the back of his head, but this time Gamzee pulls away to confront them about it.
"Stop that, right the fuck now!"
"Or what?"
"I'll motherfucking cull you!"
The boys start chortling with laughter at the statement. "Even their words are weird," someone says through their exuberance. Gamzee snarls, stalking forward with his hands curled into fists, but someone races forward to shove him to the ground. Kurloz gives his own snarl, one more vicious and threatening than his younger siblings, and snatches up that kid by his neck. The boy squirms wildly in his strong grasp, mouth flapping for the air that's been cut off from him. Kurloz's eyes glow a deep purple in his anger at the aggression, and he speaks with a dark, threatening tone.
"Don't you ever motherfucking touch him again, lowblood. Or I'll cull you." He drops the human to the ground with a disgusted grunt and watches as they all scuttle away like the vermin they were, and then turns to his brother. "Are you alright, Gam?"
"You shouldn't have up and hurt him, 'Loz. He didn't do anything to deserve it."
"He pushed you. One of his blood shouldn't even think of touching us—or, at least that's what the Grand Highblood says. Though, to let you in on a little secret, I'm not entirely sure if I believe him that we're so much motherfucking better." Gamzee's eyes burn at the mention of the Grand Highblood—who is their guardian.
"I motherfucking hate him, bro. He's always hurting you 'cause he feels like it, and..." Gamzee shudders, eyes moving back to their hive as he contemplates the giant troll's reactions. "He might be mad, 'Loz. If someone tells that you beat up a human they might come over and make him angry." His hands start to wring his damp shirt in nervous agitation.
"It's alright, Gam. He doesn't care. But I'll protect you if he does get mad, 'kay?"
"You shouldn't have to. I'm almost as big as you, you know. And he hardly ever pays attention to me anyway, since he likes you so much better—he'll be more mad at you than me."
"Good." Kurloz puts an arm around Gamzee's shoulders, leading him away, and Gamzee takes hold of his finger as he is prone to do. "Maybe if I make him angry enough he'll leave us alone, or throw us out or something. That would be fucking wicked."
"Or he'd cull you, too."
Kurloz ponders that a moment. "It wouldn't be so bad, I guess. I'd just worry about leaving you alone. We'll just stay away from him for a while, alright?"
"...Okay."
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Kurloz's eyes flash open, taking in the stony darkness surrounding him. He struggles to remember where he is, starvation and a lethargy working together to fuzz his thought processes. Where the hell is he? He lies silently for a while, blinking slowly as his retinas adjust to the blackness of the room, and he sees the coffin that has kept him company throughout the day. He rolls over with a groan, his body sore from sleeping on the cement floor of the tomb, and recalls that he'd had to break into the place to escape from the rising sun and prying eyes. Luckily the stone door is heavy, which means that many species—including most blood-colors of trolls—can't lift it, and so he would be safe.
But now he needs to leave. The sun is setting, as can be seen by the dim glow from under the doorway on the other side of the crypt. The light had been blocked from reaching him during the day by the bulk of the coffin. Kurloz grabs up the small journal he had clutched throughout the day and forces himself into a stretch, ignoring the pain in his ligaments and joints, then shoves the item into the back pocket of his shorts and walks around the sarcophagus to shove open the barrier. He pauses with it partially open, listening for any suspicious noises that might portend danger. He smells a large animal nearby, likely a guard dog or something, which might be a problem if it decides to make noise about his intrusion. But as the creature doesn't make any sounds of movement he takes the chance that it is asleep and quickly slips through the open crypt, closing it securely behind him in case he wants to use it again. No sense in making a huff around the general populace about a grave robber by leaving the tomb open.
As he turns away he hears the unmistakable sound of a blow dart right behind him, and a sharp stab into his thighs causes him to freeze and look down. Sure enough, he's been darted. Kurloz growls threateningly from deep within his throat. He isn't worried too much about the dart—not very many sedatives can affect him—so he just pulls it out and crushes the device in his fist. His eyes travel upward to lock onto a young human male, with light sandy hair and surprisingly icy blue eyes, who is stationed at the top of the crypt. The man looks nearly terrified.
Kurloz takes a step forward, intending to confront him, but his leg wobbles beneath him as he does so. His brows draw together in confusion before he realizes that the dart must have been something powerful, if it were affecting him so quickly. His lips pull up in a snarl, contorting his face into a grotesque mask as his stitches attempt to keep his lips together and his fangs hidden. He plants his feet, knowing that he won't be able to run fast enough to escape, but he might be able to incapacitate this man and drag himself somewhere. The human...wait, no. He didn't smell human, Kurloz realizes. The being looks down in confused agitation, pulling a second dart cautiously from his pocket and uncapping it. Kurloz tenses as the weapon is reloaded, but the attacker doesn't put it back to his lips quite yet, seeming to wait for something specific to happen. Kurloz would guess it was for him to fall over, as whatever drug had been forced into his system was very strong. Only a few minutes have elapsed, and already his vision is getting hazy and his limbs numb and heavy—although he is trying his best to hide that.
The male looks around nervously before climbing down from the crypt's roof, his movements fluid and agile. He creeps closer to Kurloz, poised on the balls of his feet and ready to run at a moment's notice. The troll feels his eyebrow twitch in annoyance. He's been cornered by a novice, and that pricks as large a thorn in his side as the fact that he doesn't have time for this bullshit. He needs to hunt tonight—one person has already been killed, and he'll be damned if he will let this weak creature hold him back from finding the murderer before anyone else does. He lunges forward quickly, intending to stun him with a fist to the head and then incapacitate him by cutting off his air supply, but the male is too quick as he drops to the ground and springs away. Kurloz feels his center of gravity shift precariously, and suddenly he's on the ground where his opponent had been standing a few seconds ago. A weight moves to sit on his back and he tries to roll with shaky arms to remove it, but he only manages a number of inches before a hand swipes one arm out from beneath him. He hits the grass again with a grunt, and a sharp sting pierces his neck as something is injected into him. Fuck... Kurloz pants as the world around him blurs, his attackers voice echoing in his ears.
"I'm sorry; please don't be too angry with us..."
Lukas trembles as the troll beneath him finally goes still, disbelieving. Holy shit... I actually did it. He looks around, hoping no one is nearby, and slowly lifts his hand from the back of its neck. With careful, if shaking movements, he recaps the half emptied dart and replaces it into his pocket. You had told him that one should have been enough, but he didn't trust that after the way the troll had lunged at him while tranquilized. He moves to heft the male over his shoulder, earning a low growl from the being. Oh, I am so dead. ____, what the hell have you forced me into... With one final look around he treks back to the Safehouse, moving quickly through the shadows that have grown since the sun set.
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When Kurloz awakens again he is disoriented and groggy. It takes him a few moments to register that he is not alone. A damp cloth moves over his forehead, cleaning away the grime on his face. Whoever it is mutters angrily under her breath but her touch is gentle, leading Kurloz to believe that she—it is most definitely a female voice—is not angered with him. He controls his breathing, trying to appear asleep still as an animal whines in the background.
"No, Lukas. I won't hear it. Your prejudices have done enough damage today. Besides, I doubt he'll be moving fast enough for at least an hour after he wakes to actually have a chance at harming me, you, or anyone else here. You gave him enough serum to sedate a Clydesdale. Let's just hope he's as resilient as you claim." The cloth returns to his face, the cold material helping to clear his wispy thoughts. He cracks open his eyes to see you sitting beside him on the bed of a guestroom with no windows, one down in the basement. Your face is turned away from him and he recognizes the large white dog sulking in the corner. It eyes him in distrust, and when the animal sees that Kurloz is awake its lips curl into a snarl and a growl becomes audible.
"Quiet, Lukas." He ignores her, stepping forward protectively with his fur slightly ruffled over his shoulders. Kurloz tries to sit up instinctively, causing you to jump off the bed in surprise and accidently bounce the troll to the floor. He lands with a grunt and Lukas is instantly between the two of you. Werewolves. You roll your eyes. Loyal and protective companions, but sometimes a little too ruled by their baser instincts for their own good.
You point a finger at him, directing a small charge of electricity into his fur and causing him to yelp in surprise. He looks back at you with a hurt expression, his ears low as he tries to act like he has no idea why you would do that. You point that finger toward his previous corner, ordering him silently to return to guarding the items you had pulled off the Capricorn. He sullenly obeys your wishes, and you look down to the tall troll watching the two of you warily from the floor. He is breathing hard, likely from the anxiety of being drugged and his unceremonious tumble from the bed. Your mood softens at the wild look in his eyes, recognizing it from your years of experience in helping the downtrodden and unfortunate.
"It's alright," you murmur. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe here." His ears twitch and he focuses on you, showing that he can hear and understand what you are saying. You slowly lower yourself down to his level, palms up to show you are weaponless, and keep your eyes locked to his so he can read your intentions. He growls as you near him, eyes narrowing dangerously. He looks less frightening, though, than he had when Lukas had brought him in, what with the makeup covering his face in a skull pattern. Normally you would have left that on him, as you have no idea what significance it has for him or whether he would appreciate the gesture, but unfortunately for him you had decided to disregard that personal rule for once. Although it might have looked perfectly fine at one point, it was simply too grungy and disturbing for you to leave it alone. You have already sent someone to get new supplies for him to replace it, however, in a concession for you overstepping your bounds.
You wait calmly as he tries to lift himself off the floor, and are slightly surprised when he nearly sits his torso up at one point. His head hangs low in exhaustion, his shoulders shaking from the effort, yet he still glares at your outstretched hand when you offer to help him.
"I'm only going to lift you onto the bed, alright? I swear I'm not here to harm you." You patiently hold out your hand as he watches you, judging your truthfulness. The minutes pass in a tense stalemate. His growl slowly tapers off into quiet, and eventually he lowers his eyes from yours to stare at the ground. You calmly place your palm on his shoulder and he flinches, breath stilling in his lungs. You wait until it resumes before moving forward and pulling his arm around your shoulders. With a grunt you lift his heavy body onto his knees, then onto the bed. Lukas watches the two of you intently from the corner, his ears flat to his skull in worry, but from the way the Capricorn collapses into the bed you know that you are safe—at least for now.
The door opens and Fia steps in, holding up the bag of supplies you had asked her to retrieve. You nod and she brings them over to the desk nearby. She sets out the makeup, some fresh clothing, food, and bottled water. The troll watches her movements through half-lidded eyes, body wired tightly at the intrusion. Fia leaves quickly, his stare unnerving her.
"Lukas, why don't you go with her and give us a minute? I'd like to talk to our guest alone." Your gaze keeps his protests to a minimum, and he goes without complaint. You turn to look at the troll, whose eyes are lighted with ill-humor. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I'm sorry, but I don't know your name." He shrugs, and then shakes his head 'no' with a bit of effort
"Alright. Know that your answers are completely confidential here, and I am sorry if this sounds like an inquisition, but the questions are necessary." He holds up a hand and turns his head to the side questioningly. "Why?" He nods. "Because there are likely authorities scouring the city for highblooded trolls such as yourself, and my Safehouse is the only place that can offer you protection. However, as a precaution I'd like to be sure you are, in fact, not the one murdering civilians off the streets. And I have a spell in place that will let me know if you are lying." He narrows his eyes once more and studies your face, which shows no hint of deception or ulterior motives, and he motions for you to continue.
"Firstly, do you know anything about a murder that occurred the night before this? Sometime, I presume, after you saved me and my companion from that other threat?" Not one for pussyfooting around an issue, are you?
He nods warily, and starts trying to pantomime his innocence with his hands.
"Hold on," you tell him. His hands pause and he watches curiously as you dig a pad and pen from the bedside table. "Here," you say, and hand him the items. He takes them as quickly as his lethargy will allow, though the effects are starting to wear off, and scribbles an answer. When he shows you the pad you notice that his handwriting is sharp and straight.
I'm NoT tHe OnE wHo KiLlEd ThAt MaN, tHoUgH i DiD sEe ThE mOtHeRfUcKiNg BoDy BeFoRe It WaS fOuNd.
"Do you know who might have done it? Or have any information the police can use to find the killer?" He pulls the paper back and writes more slowly this time.
I tHiNk It WoUlD bE bEsT iF tHeY lEfT fInDiNg HiM tO tHoSe WhO cOuLd AlL uP aNd FuCkInG sUrViVe It. BeSiDeS, hE's NoBoDiEs MoThErFuCkInG cOnCeRn BuT mInE.
You frown at the paper. "That's a very cryptic answer. Are you sure you don't want to change it? Because I'm pretty sure that after he killed a member of society that he became the city's problem." His eyes narrow.
ThAt Is AlL i Am WiLlInG tO sAy On ThE mOtHeRfUcKiNg MaTtEr.
"... Alright, I won't push the matter. After all, it's only you that I'm concerned about here. Can I trust that you won't endanger the other residents of the house?"
WhY tHe MoThErFuCk Am I hErE aNyWaY?
"Because I said so. You saved me last night. I'm repaying the favor by giving you that roof over your head. Lukas said you were sleeping in a tomb, which is unacceptable. And don't bother arguing. It doesn't matter how you came here, the point is that you are here now and under my protection. Due to the circumstances, it would be more beneficial for you to just enjoy the amenities I'm offering and stay put until you can plan your next course of action."
He considers your offer silently for a moment, eventually concluding that it is a reasonable one. He nods and places a hand over his heart to say 'thank you.'
"No problem. Now, before I go, is there anything you would prefer to eat? Especially considering your, well..." You motion to his lips. A small smile graces them as he chuckles in amusement. He pantomimes using scissors on them, eating, and finally sewing his lips back up again. "Would you like me to bring you scissors, then? Your thread and needle and over there, by the way. Along with your other belongings." You motion over to the corner of the room. He nods, and you stand with a smile. "I'll be right back then."
When you come back the troll is asleep again, the notepad on the table beside him. With a shake of your head you pick up his sewing materials and place them, along with the scissors, next to the food Fia had left. The notepad catches your attention, a single sentence on the new sheet of paper.
My NaMe Is KuRlOz MaKaRa, In CaSe YoU wErE mOtHeRfUcKiNg WoNdErInG. : o)
The emoticon catches your attention, being the same as the one on the wall near the murder. But your magic doesn't lie. And he hadn't been lying when he 'told' you he was innocent. You sigh, deciding it was something to do with the strange connection between him and the murderer, and that it isn't your place to pry.
Trust a troll to ignore the fact that you practically kidnapped him, you think as you leave the room, shutting the door quietly behind you. Reading that book on trollian culture has really come in handy.