well jesus christ i'm not scared of dying

[crab]

WHO: dumb (dragony) and dumber (crab)
WHERE: their assigned place of residence.
WHEN: late evening january 15th, after all the new arrival shenanigans.
WHAT: karkat died, their universe died, and rua didn't make the universe cross. it's been a rough week.
WARNINGS: heavy profanity, probable discussion of death.

[ After everything he's gone through over the past few days, from his perspective, the only word to describe Karkat's sentiments when he's dropped off at his new place is exhaustion. By the time he pushes his way through the front door and steps over the threshold of the unfamiliar hive, he's pretty sure that he is capable of sleeping for at least a week, daymares be fucked.

He's so tired that any emotional feedback from someone who might have been dropped off before him is nothing more than indistinct background noise, for the moment. The door slams behind him, the sound offensively sharp. ]

Comments

[crab]

[ It's confusing, to be aware of impulses and subtleties rooted in positive sentiment he would have been blinkered to before -- it's not unpleasant, as his power had originally been in its early stages, but it isn't easy to process, either. ]

You can say-- whatever it is, you're thinking.

[dragony]

I suppose... [ The words come after a delay, but even then, it takes her a moment to sort through what's worth saying.

Her gaze drifts to the ceiling, still as spotless as before. ]

... Instead of saying, you're forgiven... for breaking your promise. I'll say thank you.

[crab]

Thank you? [ He echoes, bewildered. Of all the responses he expected from her -- anger, sadness, disappointment, deflection -- a thank you ranked fairly low on the list. ]

[dragony]

You saved his life. When you could have saved your own, instead.

[ She still isn't looking at him, eye to eye, and maybe it's easier to say when she's not watching his expression shift from one surprise to another. ]

He would have switched places with you, you know. If you'd given him the chance. So...

[ Her arms move, crossing, hands across her forearms. Her voice is quiet. ]

I would say you were brave, to do it, but you might call it something else. [ selfish, maybe, for not wanting to carry a survivor's guilt. cowardice, possible, not wanting to explain how it came to be karkat there, and rua gone. ] I'm grateful that you protected him.

[crab]

[ It is in Karkat's nature to deflect and deny praise when it's given in any genuine capacity, but this time... ]

I didn't regret it. [ And for Karkat Vantas, that is an enormous thing to admit. ] I mean, it was fucked up that he had to see, I felt bad about that, and I wasn't thrilled about dying either, but I was glad I saved him. It was worth it.

[dragony]

[ She hesitates, then. Obviously, she has to tell him what happened to Rua, but... it was only a few hours ago, and she's hesitant to confirm what she felt. Ruka would much, much rather be wrong about this. ]

... In a way, you saved me, too.

[crab]

[ Arguably kinder in the short term to let him believe he succeeded in helping someone for once. ]

Care to elaborate?

[dragony]

We're... connected, Rua and I. It's hard to explain... [ Her mouth pulls at the corners, her focus dropping to the new, pristine carpeting. There's no wear of footsteps, or haphazard personal belongings, or even the flecks of ink and paint and eraser shavings more common to Ruka's real bedroom, in the City. ] ... that is, I don't fully understand it, myself. I don't think it's only because we're twins, but it isn't only because we're Signers, either.

Anyway...

[ A shrug to her shoulders; the reasons why were never that important. ] ... In... In New Vesuvius, when he died, it... echoed, in my heart. I felt him die.

... Mmm.

[ She doesn't elaborate further, but it's more of the story than she's told Karkat before; her suicide in New Vesuvius has been a point of argument and contention from the moment he discovered it wasn't the system itself that killed her, like it had so many others. She's told him that their deaths—Rua's and Karkat's—drove her to that conclusion, but she's kept the details close to heart.

It's a piece Karkat was missing before, but he already knows how that story ended. ]

[crab]

[ Ah.

Karkat doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a careful, measured inhale. This is a sore subject, one he's only ever navigated poorly in the past. ]

You couldn't live without him? [ He prompts, with some hesitation. ]

[dragony]

I've had to. We didn't arrive together, after all.

[ But it's not quite the question he asked, either, and it gives her pause. ]

... You know what it feels like. To feel the death of someone you love, repeated inside you. Don't you?

[crab]

[ Vriska Serket.

Of every death Karkat has witnessed, in his time in the City, it's Vriska's he has the hardest time forgetting. Love might be a strong word for what he'd admit to feeling for her, but... every fear, every pain she'd felt as she'd died had been echoed in Karkat's heart, intimately enough that at the moment of her death, it was as if he'd died, too. When her emotional output had been ripped away, when she was gone, he'd been left empty. Hollow.

The flinch he gives is almost imperceptible. His mouth is dry, and he swallows before speaking. ]

Yeah. Yeah, I know what it's like. It's part of why-- why I couldn't watch him die like that.

[dragony]

[ It might be strong, but it's one he's used—maybe not this Karkat, all in one piece, but part of him would admit such a deep depth of feeling.

She doesn't bring it up to hurt him, though the reminder must ache, and she knows such a pain is inevitable. But they spend so much time fighting, so long on opposite sides of a canyon where they cannot understand one another. The truth hurts, and the reminder hurts, she knows, but after everything... this is better than deflection and the hurt from fighting so much, isn't it?

It's not a question she can answer on her own. ]

Yeah. ... [ I understand. ] ... With how it was, I wouldn't have lived through that.

Even though you didn't know it, you saved me, too.

[crab]

[ He wants to tell her that he lived through it, push the same point he'd tried to make the last time they'd talked about this, but decides against it, for now. He doesn't want to fight with her.

Instead, he reaches for her upper arm, tugging at her sleeve to try and get her to face him properly.

Should she turn, there won't be much more warning, before his arms wrap around her to pull her into a warm, almost too-tight embrace. ]

[dragony]

[ With no idea his intent, or where he's going to go with this, the tugging does result in Ruka turning to look at him. She expects words, something disparaging — he doesn't believe her assessment, she's sure, and intends to tell her exactly how little he believes her, no matter how many times they've gone through this before, no matter how many times her answer has stayed the same—

The breath is knocked out of her in the collision, and for a moment she has no idea what's going on. Her arms are still crossed, not quite pinned against her ribs, and her whole body is off-balance; for a brief moment, she's afraid he's going to drop her on the floor as some half-cocked analogy.

But that's not what this is at all.

Seconds tick by in immobile confusion, and hesitance. Ruka is still very unpracticed in such displays of emotion—ironic, for an empath. On top of that, there's an awful tendency for those that express it like this to vanish from her life without warning.

And so, it is with slow, deliberate movements that Ruka unfolds her arms, pulling them out from between them. There is no natural ease to this, no instinctive reaction; her hands fold on themselves before they settle on his shoulder blades, her arms nearly parallel tracks to his spine. It is with intent that she pulls close with responding pressure; it is knowing, willing action that rests her chin on his shoulder.

It is unavoidable consequence, when grief and relief coalesce within her, that tears prick like needles against her eye, and her chest shudders for the sob she doesn't want to release.

The last thing either of them need is her crying. ]

[crab]

[ For how close they are, displays of affection such as this are few and far between, for them, Karkat not much more skilled in it than she is. Still, despite the mutual awkwardness of her hesitance and his vehemence, he doesn't pull away.

Contact such as this makes it impossible for him to cut her heart away from his. Grief, relief, the stifled sob, it flows from her to him unobstructed, tugs at pieces of his own heart he still hasn't allowed himself to examine. ]

There's more you're not telling me about. [ He mutters into her shoulder, brushing a hand up and down, over her spine -- intended either to soothe the sobs she won't release or coax them out of her. ] Right?

[dragony]

[ Her nails, chipped and uneven, dig into her palms; her inhale is long, quiet; her eye is closed as tight as she can manage. (Anything, anything, to keep herself from crying.) ]

... Yeah. [ It's not something she can deny; Karkat knows her well enough. ]

[crab]

[ Karkat lifts his head from her shoulder, now talking closer to her ear. ]

Can you tell me about it? [ He asks, after a certain amount of hesitation. It's not often that he asks for Ruka to talk to him-- with how often she deflects and derails any attempt at a serious conversation regarding her well being, it leaves too much room for no. ]

[dragony]

[ There's no real avoiding it. If she doesn't tell him now, he'll simply ask the question itself, or realize the truth on his own. Even if it's not a truth she wants to confirm...

Her part of the hug slackens, her hands skidding a couple inches down his back. Too tired to hold on to him, when she has to focus so much on holding on to herself.

A breath. ]

He went home.

[crab]

He went home? [ Karkat echoes, uncomprehending, before realization sinks in that there is really no one else she could be referring to, in the context of this conversation.

Rua. ]

Oh. [ It's a feeling similar to both being punched in the gut and having the floorboards ripped out from underneath you, and it's one Karkat is not entirely unfamiliar with, by now. The breath Karkat takes is unsteady, and his hands curl into fists against her back, clutching at the cloth there.

He went home. A kinder way of saying "he vanished, and I don't know where he is, but I'd like to think it's home and that he didn't merely cease to exist or get deposited in a doomed timeline to inevitably die horribly." That kind of departure has felt more like death than legitimate death for a long time now, for Karkat. Even throwing his life away can't save the people he cares about. He should have known better. He should have known that he isn't any hero, never deserved the title Lachesis tried to give him. He doesn't save people.

He's useless. ]

Fuck. [ The tremor in his voice is audible. ]

[dragony]

It was as we were coming to this world. [ only a few hours ago, she means. she can feel that tremor, and the way he clings to her now—the way she tries not to cling to anyone—and her words are quiet, soothing. It's alright, she says. It's okay.. ] I was with him. I felt it happen.

[ it's her hand, rubbing his back. ]

It wasn't like death. [ He didn't suffer. ] To me... it felt like sunrise, when the stars fade from view. You know, right? How the light gets harder to see... but even when it's impossible to see, it doesn't mean the star is gone. Our bond isn't severed. And neither is yours.

[crab]

[ He has to stifle the impulse to snap at her, to lash out, as has always been his habit, when in pain. Sunrise, stars fading from few, she can dress it up all she wants to, but that won't bring Rua back. ]

Flowery poetry isn't making this better, Ruka. [ He mutters, instead of the biting retort he initially wants to give. ] You can't fool me with this above it all charade. You know, this world isn't going to collapse around us if you just let yourself be upset for once.

[dragony]

I'm not upset.

[ but her arms fall still on his back, and she tries to pull back from the hug—trying, as always, to pull back from her own feelings. ]

I'm not putting on a charade.

[crab]

[ His hold slackens enough that she can break away, but one hand remains on her shoulder. He presses down, as if for emphasis, reminder. ]

The amount of times you forget who you're talking to is astounding, Ruka. [ It's not said with any aggression. If anything, he sounds tired. ]

[dragony]

You only understand my heart in grayscale. [ he sounds it, but she feels tired, exhausted and run dry. ] Part of me is sad, okay. I know it will be a long time before I see him again. But I'm not upset. That's not my whole heart, and I wish you wouldn't always assume that it was.

[crab]

Not anymore. [ This is with a little impatience. ] My empathy isn't the same, since coming here. I get both sides now, so you can toss that excuse out with the garbage where it belongs.