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So hey, I've also been doing the fanficcy thing. XD
This is probably my priority fandom project at the moment; it's a Homestuck AU, set in a universe where psionic trolls run things, blue and indigobloods are enslaved, and seadwellers live at an early Bronze age level of technology. It was originally supposed to be a relatively simple Aradia/Equius fic, but then I started to think about the culture of the setting and it kind of exploded on me, just like every other fic I've tried to write in the last four years. It just keeps happening. XD
The title of this fic is "Dirt in the Sky", but I'm putting under the tag "Land of the Meek" to represent the entire series.
EDIT: I was thinking about how cumbersome my tags list was, so I went and deleted the whole thing. Time to start over in a way that actually makes sense!
Dirt in the Sky
Chapter One
He would forget his own hatching, in the sweeps to come. The struggle and pain, the crackresounding through his head as he finally broke through the hardened shell of his cocoon, the empty air of the cave seemingly bitter cold on his virgin skin, all these impressions would fade in time. Likewise the trials, except for a vague impression of struggle and fear; these things were not meant to be remembered. He would remember the feeling of safety, when at least he reached the waiting arms of his lusus; that memory, at least, would be reinforced ten thousands time over as he matured, though he would forget the gentleness of the beast's touch as it wiped away his blood and the cocoon-slime that still clung to his skin, and the roughness of the drone-spun shirt he was given, his sign boldly emblazoned on it in the color of his blood.
He would forget meeting the others of his caste in a large cavern, the light of the pink and green moons just barely visible at the end of a long tunnel to the outside. The indigo, already taller than he and clutching a struggling fish-tailed goat to his chest; the teal, alone and trembling, meeting the eyes of no one; the cerulean, bold and unafraid of the white spider that perched on her back; he would forget them all, face and name and sign. He would forget the long walk to the tunnel mouth, holding his lusus's hand and trying to ignore the bickering of those that walked with him. He was only just hatched, but he had drunk deeply at the schoolcasks of history and propriety, and already felt that occasions as momentous as this called for more decorum than his fellows were showing. He would even forget the way the indigo paused at the mouth of the cave, asking in a loud, crude voice where the carpenter drones were - but the rest, ah. The rest he would always remember.
He would remember a lone girl, her horns forming sharp points, silhouetted against the light of the moons as she defiantly dashed outside, ahead of all the rest - and he would remember the sharp, frightened cry that followed after. He would remember piling outside with the other children, too young and curious to heed a warning when they heard it, and the shock and fear that came over him when he saw the adults. They weren't supposed to be here; he was only just hatched, but on that point he was certain. Adults were dangerous, and to be avoided until he was strong enough to protect himself. The carpenter drones should have fought off any that tried to approach the brooding caverns; that was what they were there for, on top of and in addition to their stated purpose of building.
He would remember spotting the crumpled body of a drone lying nearby; it was plain that they had failed in their purpose.
One of the adults approached, her sign a dark yellow, just a few shades shy of brown. He would forget the specifics of everything she said to them all, but the gist remained clear: they would not be allowed to journey into the wilderness, as was their birthright, and establish their own hives and communities where they could mature in peace. They would come with her, for their own good, and so long as they remained calm no harm would come to them. He saw the longsword at her hip, and the bows held in hands of her companions, all of them shades of yellow and green, and knew it was no empty threat.
But his companions were not so wise; the girl with the spider protested, demanding an explanation. One of the adults tried to grab her shoulder, and her lusus suddenly darted at him, leaping over it's charge's head and burying its fangs in his arm. He yelled and flailed backwards, already turning white as the spider's venom took its toll; one of his fellows ran it through with an arrow. The girl shrieked, her voice high and enraged, and threw herself at the archer, less than half his size but twice as fierce.
Affected by her anger and their own fear, the other children followed suit, attacking whichever adult was closest in a blind frenzy. But it was helpless from the start; these were fully-grown trolls, warriors all, and the children didn't stand a chance. Some were shot, discovering to their horror that the arrows were coated with a paralytic that left them twitching helplessly on the ground; others were knocked off their feet and pinned, finding their teeth and fists useless against the adults' boiled leather armor.
There was no doubt that he would have found himself a member of one or the other group, were it not for his lusus. Though it was still young, it was already quite strong and swift; strong enough to pick Equius up and throw him over its back, and swift enough to dodge the adults who tried to grab him and carry him away. Shouts followed them, and worse: the image of an arrow, swiftly flying past his face, close enough that he could see the paralytic glistening on the tip and count the individual filaments of each feather, would be forever burned into his memory. But his lusus outran both shouts and arrows, and carried him deep into the wilderness.
At the time, he assumed his lusus was simply that swift; it would be sweeps and sweeps before he realized that the adults had not really tried that hard to catch him after all. With no carpenter drone to help him, they assumed he would die of starvation or exposure within a perigee - and perhaps they might have been proven right, if fate hadn't intervened.
Four nights and five days passed before he met his salvation; five days of trembling fear, of hiding from the sun in the lee of boulders and under trees, of clinging to his lusus and knowing it would not be strong enough to protect him, should they be discovered; and four days of scrounging for whatever food they could find in the fallow soil, of gnawing hunger and foul tastes, and constant, relentless travel, for Equius still feared pursuit, and insistently drove both himself and his lusus ever onward into the wilderness. Young trolls weren't meant to travel like this; his hive should have been close to completion by now, and he should have been growing strong on the plentiful food the drones provided. He could feel himself growing weaker with every passing night, and while the milk his lusus began to provide on the third day helped stave off starvation, he knew even as he drank deeply that it was only staving off the inevitable.
But then he met her.
It was on the fifth night. Exhaustion had clouded all his senses, forcing him to lean on his lusuoos as they walked together, lest he lose his balance and stumble in a cloud of tired confusion. He was so weary that he didn't even notice anything had changed about their surroundings until his lusus suddenly stopped, looking around with a sharp glare. Then he finally heard it: singing, coming from somewhere downhill from where he and his lusus stood. Caution warred with his hunger; he was still deathly afraid of the adults, but this sounded nothing like them; the voice was too high and unsteady, and it stumbled over the words to the song as if it had only just learned them, or perhaps was making them up on the spot.
If the singer was still young, they might be willing to help him. He had nothing worth trading, but his strength and that of his lusus had not yet left either of them entirely; surely he could perform some service in exchange for shelter and food.
He stumbled down the slope, his lusus in tow, and out into a clearing, just in time to meet the singer and her retinue as they came from the opposite direction. The singer herself sat on the shoulder of a large carpenter drone, her mouth hanging open as she stopped mid-verse to gape at him, and by the drone's feet padded a large white cat, both its mouths curling in a growl of warning. He'd been prepared to beg for mercy, for sympathy, but once he actually saw her he found himself at a loss for words. Though the schoolcasks had failed to prepare him for what had happened outside the cave, he still knew a little of the ways of the world, and knew that while a green was slightly more likely to be merciful than a psionic might have been, she still had no real reason to take pity on him.
But it turned out that he had sorely underestimated this girl's capacity for kindness; she smiled at him, a wide, happy grin that could not possibly be mistaken as anything other than friendly, and jumped down from the drone's shoulder, her arms open and mouth overflowing with happy chatter.
"Hi! Did we scare you? I'm sorry, we were just passing through! Do you live around here? We should be neighbors! Nobody else wanted to come exploring with me, but it's so pretty up here, don't you think?" Then, while Equius was still reeling from this sudden stream of information, she turned back to the cat lusus, which was still growling and eying his own guardian suspiciously, and snapped, "Pounce! Calm down! Sheesh!" and then turned back to him with a roll of her eyes. "That's my lusus, Pounce de Leon! And I'm Nepeta Leijon!" She pronounced her name proudly, chest puffing out. "Who are you?" And at last she paused, looking at him expectantly.
It took him a moment to find his voice, but at last he said shyly, "Equius Zahhak. And this is Aurthour."
This is probably my priority fandom project at the moment; it's a Homestuck AU, set in a universe where psionic trolls run things, blue and indigobloods are enslaved, and seadwellers live at an early Bronze age level of technology. It was originally supposed to be a relatively simple Aradia/Equius fic, but then I started to think about the culture of the setting and it kind of exploded on me, just like every other fic I've tried to write in the last four years. It just keeps happening. XD
The title of this fic is "Dirt in the Sky", but I'm putting under the tag "Land of the Meek" to represent the entire series.
EDIT: I was thinking about how cumbersome my tags list was, so I went and deleted the whole thing. Time to start over in a way that actually makes sense!
Dirt in the Sky
Chapter One
He would forget his own hatching, in the sweeps to come. The struggle and pain, the crackresounding through his head as he finally broke through the hardened shell of his cocoon, the empty air of the cave seemingly bitter cold on his virgin skin, all these impressions would fade in time. Likewise the trials, except for a vague impression of struggle and fear; these things were not meant to be remembered. He would remember the feeling of safety, when at least he reached the waiting arms of his lusus; that memory, at least, would be reinforced ten thousands time over as he matured, though he would forget the gentleness of the beast's touch as it wiped away his blood and the cocoon-slime that still clung to his skin, and the roughness of the drone-spun shirt he was given, his sign boldly emblazoned on it in the color of his blood.
He would forget meeting the others of his caste in a large cavern, the light of the pink and green moons just barely visible at the end of a long tunnel to the outside. The indigo, already taller than he and clutching a struggling fish-tailed goat to his chest; the teal, alone and trembling, meeting the eyes of no one; the cerulean, bold and unafraid of the white spider that perched on her back; he would forget them all, face and name and sign. He would forget the long walk to the tunnel mouth, holding his lusus's hand and trying to ignore the bickering of those that walked with him. He was only just hatched, but he had drunk deeply at the schoolcasks of history and propriety, and already felt that occasions as momentous as this called for more decorum than his fellows were showing. He would even forget the way the indigo paused at the mouth of the cave, asking in a loud, crude voice where the carpenter drones were - but the rest, ah. The rest he would always remember.
He would remember a lone girl, her horns forming sharp points, silhouetted against the light of the moons as she defiantly dashed outside, ahead of all the rest - and he would remember the sharp, frightened cry that followed after. He would remember piling outside with the other children, too young and curious to heed a warning when they heard it, and the shock and fear that came over him when he saw the adults. They weren't supposed to be here; he was only just hatched, but on that point he was certain. Adults were dangerous, and to be avoided until he was strong enough to protect himself. The carpenter drones should have fought off any that tried to approach the brooding caverns; that was what they were there for, on top of and in addition to their stated purpose of building.
He would remember spotting the crumpled body of a drone lying nearby; it was plain that they had failed in their purpose.
One of the adults approached, her sign a dark yellow, just a few shades shy of brown. He would forget the specifics of everything she said to them all, but the gist remained clear: they would not be allowed to journey into the wilderness, as was their birthright, and establish their own hives and communities where they could mature in peace. They would come with her, for their own good, and so long as they remained calm no harm would come to them. He saw the longsword at her hip, and the bows held in hands of her companions, all of them shades of yellow and green, and knew it was no empty threat.
But his companions were not so wise; the girl with the spider protested, demanding an explanation. One of the adults tried to grab her shoulder, and her lusus suddenly darted at him, leaping over it's charge's head and burying its fangs in his arm. He yelled and flailed backwards, already turning white as the spider's venom took its toll; one of his fellows ran it through with an arrow. The girl shrieked, her voice high and enraged, and threw herself at the archer, less than half his size but twice as fierce.
Affected by her anger and their own fear, the other children followed suit, attacking whichever adult was closest in a blind frenzy. But it was helpless from the start; these were fully-grown trolls, warriors all, and the children didn't stand a chance. Some were shot, discovering to their horror that the arrows were coated with a paralytic that left them twitching helplessly on the ground; others were knocked off their feet and pinned, finding their teeth and fists useless against the adults' boiled leather armor.
There was no doubt that he would have found himself a member of one or the other group, were it not for his lusus. Though it was still young, it was already quite strong and swift; strong enough to pick Equius up and throw him over its back, and swift enough to dodge the adults who tried to grab him and carry him away. Shouts followed them, and worse: the image of an arrow, swiftly flying past his face, close enough that he could see the paralytic glistening on the tip and count the individual filaments of each feather, would be forever burned into his memory. But his lusus outran both shouts and arrows, and carried him deep into the wilderness.
At the time, he assumed his lusus was simply that swift; it would be sweeps and sweeps before he realized that the adults had not really tried that hard to catch him after all. With no carpenter drone to help him, they assumed he would die of starvation or exposure within a perigee - and perhaps they might have been proven right, if fate hadn't intervened.
Four nights and five days passed before he met his salvation; five days of trembling fear, of hiding from the sun in the lee of boulders and under trees, of clinging to his lusus and knowing it would not be strong enough to protect him, should they be discovered; and four days of scrounging for whatever food they could find in the fallow soil, of gnawing hunger and foul tastes, and constant, relentless travel, for Equius still feared pursuit, and insistently drove both himself and his lusus ever onward into the wilderness. Young trolls weren't meant to travel like this; his hive should have been close to completion by now, and he should have been growing strong on the plentiful food the drones provided. He could feel himself growing weaker with every passing night, and while the milk his lusus began to provide on the third day helped stave off starvation, he knew even as he drank deeply that it was only staving off the inevitable.
But then he met her.
It was on the fifth night. Exhaustion had clouded all his senses, forcing him to lean on his lusuoos as they walked together, lest he lose his balance and stumble in a cloud of tired confusion. He was so weary that he didn't even notice anything had changed about their surroundings until his lusus suddenly stopped, looking around with a sharp glare. Then he finally heard it: singing, coming from somewhere downhill from where he and his lusus stood. Caution warred with his hunger; he was still deathly afraid of the adults, but this sounded nothing like them; the voice was too high and unsteady, and it stumbled over the words to the song as if it had only just learned them, or perhaps was making them up on the spot.
If the singer was still young, they might be willing to help him. He had nothing worth trading, but his strength and that of his lusus had not yet left either of them entirely; surely he could perform some service in exchange for shelter and food.
He stumbled down the slope, his lusus in tow, and out into a clearing, just in time to meet the singer and her retinue as they came from the opposite direction. The singer herself sat on the shoulder of a large carpenter drone, her mouth hanging open as she stopped mid-verse to gape at him, and by the drone's feet padded a large white cat, both its mouths curling in a growl of warning. He'd been prepared to beg for mercy, for sympathy, but once he actually saw her he found himself at a loss for words. Though the schoolcasks had failed to prepare him for what had happened outside the cave, he still knew a little of the ways of the world, and knew that while a green was slightly more likely to be merciful than a psionic might have been, she still had no real reason to take pity on him.
But it turned out that he had sorely underestimated this girl's capacity for kindness; she smiled at him, a wide, happy grin that could not possibly be mistaken as anything other than friendly, and jumped down from the drone's shoulder, her arms open and mouth overflowing with happy chatter.
"Hi! Did we scare you? I'm sorry, we were just passing through! Do you live around here? We should be neighbors! Nobody else wanted to come exploring with me, but it's so pretty up here, don't you think?" Then, while Equius was still reeling from this sudden stream of information, she turned back to the cat lusus, which was still growling and eying his own guardian suspiciously, and snapped, "Pounce! Calm down! Sheesh!" and then turned back to him with a roll of her eyes. "That's my lusus, Pounce de Leon! And I'm Nepeta Leijon!" She pronounced her name proudly, chest puffing out. "Who are you?" And at last she paused, looking at him expectantly.
It took him a moment to find his voice, but at last he said shyly, "Equius Zahhak. And this is Aurthour."