#I have to deal with hIghbloods who thInk theIr tough shIt all the tIme just cause they can legally get away wIth slaughterIng people

[lettersofsky]

DistantPastZine - The Summoner - Bury Your Friends

The second Summoner piece I wrote for the @distantpastzine

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning:No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom:Homestuck Characters:The Summoner (Homestuck) | Original Troll Character(s) (Homestuck) Additional Tags:Discussion of Death | Grieving Language:English

At the end of it all, it’s the memories of us that will carry in the hearts of those that we leave behind

~

The atmosphere immediately after an altercation with the Highbloods was never a pleasant one to experience, Rufioh would readily confirm that much. It was always so… so bittersweet; no victory, no matter how important it was to the rebellion, could ever replace the ache of missing trolls; lives cut away long before they should have been, quadrants and allies wiped away thoughtless and without even the opportunity for that final closure, not helped by them being unable to bury their dead and mourn over everything lost to them. The Highbloods wouldn’t have allowed them to return for the bodies and attempting to bring them back with them was… a death sentence in itself.

So, Rufioh decided he would try to bring them closure however he could.

It was easy to gather up those grown and raised on Cavalreaping, those born into the role like he’d been and given no other choice for what they could have been, as with all of those too low on the spectrum to matter, to breathe the idea into the ear of one and watch it spread through those of them that had remained this long until when he left the camp at the first sight of moonlight it was in accompaniment of at least a dozen other trolls. There’d been more of them once, Rufioh could remember when the rebellion had been made up almost entirely of those that had left with him, unwilling to live and die by the Highbloods’ rule any more, that point was long passed though, they’d been cut down to less than a fraction of what they had once been.

But, Rufioh still thought it was a good thing that so many of them would still come together to do this with him, to remember those that had fallen and try to give them a bit of proper closure the only way they knew how to. Traditions, important things to keep close to yourself, even if they were born from awful and horrible things.

Before, they’d used this tradition to bring peace to those that had gone missing on patrols or been killed by beasts for food. Now... now it was being used for those culled by Highblood claws.

A pretty big difference, or at least it was to Rufioh.

But the tradition was finding new uses in the current circumstances, as different as they were, so he supposed he should be at least a little pleased about that? Maybe? Just the tiniest bit?

He was more than pleased about sticking it to the Highbloods that thought their way was the only way to do things at least, taking a tradition born out of the endless need to keep moving and leaving those that couldn’t keep up behind because of the risk of one’s own skin away from the claws of those that thought themselves better than they were was something Rufioh would encourage until his last breath.

Especially tonight, with numerous of what Rufioh could only call losses despite Mindfang’s and even Darkleer’s assurances otherwise. Losing over half of the battle party would never be an equal trade for some inconvenience to the Highbloods, not to Rufioh at least. But then again, he supposed that was just another difference between himself and the two colder-running individuals that were supporting his rebellion.

Rufioh refused to think of any of the trolls they’d lost as a ‘necessary statistic’. And that was, he supposed, what the tradition was about at its core.

Remembering, grieving, acknowledging that there’d been a troll once that there just wasn’t anymore. Names etched into bone and buried with the hopes that those attached to them might find some semblance of peace through the action.

There were barely more than a dozen of them at the moment, but they’d do their best to give peace to all the trolls they’d lost since they were able to perform it at all.

Or… there were barely a dozen that Rufioh remembered performing the tradition with at different points in the past and one new face that he couldn’t quite recall, a young troll, not even starting his adult molt with horns that branched off similarly to antler-hoofbeast horns.

“Don’t think I’ve uh, seen you at one of these before?” The questioning tilt of his voice was unintentional, but the curious cock of his head wasn’t. He inspected the young troll closer, taking in tired, heavy eyes and hollow cheeks, clothes that didn’t look like they were fitting quite as they should be and a piece of cloth tied around his neck with a sign resulting a barkbeasts pawprint. “New?”

The young troll nodded his response, not quite looking at Rufioh, which was, unfortunately, something he was dealing with more and more often.

“Cool.” Rufioh gave the troll what he hoped was a welcoming and encouraging smile. “Ever done one of these before?”

A shake this time.

“That’s alright, gotta be a uh, a first time for everything.” He softened and gestures towards where the others are all gathering to get started. “And as long as you’ve got a steady hand to carve the names then you’ll uh, you’ll pick it up in no time.”

“Yeah unlike Nervous-Stubfronds Nitram here!” Rufioh didn’t bother to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at Adosja’s cackling add-on, turning his head to give her a look born of long familiarity and deep-rooted comradery.

“I’ve told you I can’t uh, can’t help it!” He shot at the other Cavalreaper, watching the way the young troll looked between them both with wide, unsure eyes. “They just shake sometimes!”

“Don’t worry about Mister ‘one name to every four’, kid.” Adosja strode over to wrap a battle-marred muscular arm around the young troll’s shoulders, jostling him just the slightest amount. “Stick with me and we’ll have you carving bone like a proper survivor in no time.”

“I can carve pretty good like,” the admission was small, quiet and muttered to the ground below them and Rufioh wasn’t gonna have that.

“What was that?” He asked, keeping his voice kind enough for the kid to know he was just teasing. “Sorry, couldn’t uh, couldn’t hear you over Adosja’s ego there.”

“Like you’re one to talk!”

It worked well enough though, got the kid to chuckle at them at least.

“I’m pretty good at carving,” he repeated, louder and actually talking to them this time. “We used to practice when we had time.”

“Well uh, practice does make perfect after all.” Rufioh ignored the scoffed ‘usually’ that came from Adosja to turn to where the others were waiting for them so they could divide up the work and get started. “Come on uh,” a pause as he turned back to the kid, one horn lifting skywards as he continued. “Forgot to uh, to ask what your name was. I meant to do that somewhere uh, somewhere in there.”

“Pyionr. Pyionr Luffit.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Rufioh Nitram and that’s-“

“Adosja Verdes.” She finished before Rufioh was able to, grinning impishly down at Pyionr. “Look at you, just got here and you’re already on first name basis with The Summoner.”

“Oh shove off.” There wasn’t any heat in his voice though, which was good because Adosja simply responded by sticking her tongue out.

At least the kid didn’t look like he was walking into headfirst The Grand Highblood’s horrid and vile clutches anymore, a definite plus there.

They were accepted into the group of waiting Cavalreapers as if they were returning to where they should have been all the time, slipping into empty space with ease and being integrated into conversation with a seamlessness born of experience. Pyionr was accepted as easily simply for the fact that he was there, without thought or care of whether he had been trained from pupation for the life of a Cavalreaper or not; he was there and he wanted to participate, why send him away?

Names are given out soon enough, passed around from a list of those they recalled and added to whenever they thought of someone they’d almost missed.

Rufioh, who’s apparently been decided to be the butt of some joke today, was given Arniya Desmen to start off with, amongst the snickers and chuckles from those who’d been around long enough to know just how long he’d end up spending on the one name.

“Don’t worry if you’re not too good to start off with,” one of the oldest was telling young Pyionr, smile kind and showing none of his own almost death at the claws of an infection that had sprouted from a wound during the last fight. “There’s no way you’ll take as long as Nitram does.”

“Hush some of us are uh, are trying to concentrate.” Rufioh kept his head down, focus entirely on the bone in his hand as he started on that first ‘A’. He didn’t hear the kid’s answer but it must have been a good one since it got a few well-meaning snickers from those around him.

“Who the fuck was Prusan again?” Adosja questioned as she worked, barely needing to look at her hand to get the letters looking pristine and perfect in their form. “I don’t remember that name.”

“Wow great uh, great job at that Verdes.”

“Do you remember them Nitram?”

“Not that uh, not that name no, but that’s not the point.”

“Oh my -“

“I think they were a bronze?” Their banter was cut off by one of the others gathered there, a younger troll with hair matted and gathered into a careless bun, horns a straight line until they jutted forward and split either way. “Weren’t they the one with the… I wanna say horizontal horns that curved down? Was that them?”

“Nah that was Sylyyx.” Adosja waves off, bringing her hand up to her face as she thought, giving Rufioh time to focus on starting in making the ‘n’ he was up to actually look like a ‘n’. “Sylyyx was a tough little bint that wouldn’t take shit from anyone.”

There’s a murmur of agreement from everyone, that sounds right for her.

“... wait,” that came from somewhere to Rufioh’s other side, on a voice he’d only heard a few times before. “Was that Daggerface?”

“FUCKING YEAH IT WAS!” Adosja then proceeded to break into mad cackles, loud and obnoxious and entirely herself. “Fuck no wonder he preferred Daggerface, the cheeky barkbeast.” She then returned to work, completely content with knowing who’s name she was working on.

“... why was he called ‘Daggerface’?” Rufioh blinked at the quiet, hesitant question, lifting his head to look at Pyionr.

“Right you wouldn’t know,” Adosja hummed, turning to look at Rufioh. “How about our fearless leader tell you? Leave the rest of us to actually get some work done.”

“You just want to uh, to hear me talk. You can uh, you can admit it, you’re amongst friends.” Rufioh ignored the new series of chuckles that got, focusing on Pyionr who was starting to look like he might regret having asked the question. “When we found him and his claude he was uh, was biting down on two daggers to use as uh, to use as weapons. Cause his, his hands had been broken by a bunch of Ceruleans that didn’t uh, didn’t like that he wasn’t just going to stand back while they uh, while they bothered his moirail.”

“He was a mad barkbeast, fucking sick as.”

“...that uh, that too I guess.” Rufioh added on, rolling his eyes as Adosja made a show of placing down her first finished name and starting on another before Rufioh had even finished the first name of his one.

“Oh.” Pyionr blinked, looking down at the name he’d almost finished himself. “What about this guy? Poluxi Actias?”

“He and Adosja used to yell at each other across uh, across camp to prove who was the loudest.” Rufioh gave the answer so seriously that Pyionr almost believed it, if not for Adosja’s snorted disagreement behind him.

“If anyone screamed with him it was you at those planning meetings.” She rolled her eyes, nudging Pyionr lightly. “Poluxi let everyone know when he wasn’t happy.”

“Yeah he uh, he did,” Rufioh agreed with a chuckle. The number of times he’d have to stop and pause things just because of the gold were too numerous to count. “He was good sort though. I could uh, could always depend on him to be uh, to be honest with me when I needed it.”

The kid nodded and they all lapse into a comfortable quiet as they work, the night air filled with only the sound of knives on bone.

Rufioh finally finished with the first name he’d been given and hummed a proud noise to himself, looking it over once more just to make sure it was up to stuff. Yeah, he thought that Arniya would have been happy with that one. One of the dying breed that was trolls that didn’t get caught up in that whole The Summoner excitement, lost to a clown with a particularly vicious agenda.

Hopefully this would help them, and all they’d lost, find some kind of peace. Rufioh could only hope.

If not for them then for him. Being the one to lead so many trolls to their deaths was hard enough, he needed to do something to help make their after-existence easier on them.

He looked up as he was reaching for another bone, eyes landing on the kid. The young troll was unusually still, limbs holding a stiffness Rufioh recognized as holding things back.

He shifted to sit next to the kid, nudging him gently with his elbow. “What’s up?” He kept his voice low, an indication that the rest of the group should continue with their own work and give the illusion of ignoring Rufioh talking to the young troll.

“Karsya…” the kid’s voice was tight, barely held together.

Rufioh looked between the kid’s hidden face and the empty bone in his hands, putting two and two together.

“Someone you knew?”

“She… held them off while we escaped.” Oh. Pyionr lifted a hand up to rub roughly at his face and Rufioh waited for him to compose himself enough to finish. “I didn’t, didn’t really know her but she… she stayed so that the rest of us could leave and…”

Rufioh waited a few breaths to see if Pyionr was going to say anything more, sighing heavily when it seemed like he wasn’t. “I’m sorry to hear that,” and he was, it was genuinely pumper-shattering to hear tales of those lost in the efforts to protect someone else, even complete and total strangers. “She sounded like a fierce, courageous troll.”

The kid nods, stiff and jerky but it’s enough.

“That’s what we’re out here for isn’t it?” He mused, seeing the kid’s ear flicker towards him from the corner of his eye. “To remember everyone the way they uh, they deserve to be, and give them a bit, a small bit of peace however we can.”

“... yeah.”

“Tell me more about where you came from,” Rufioh offered, picking up a new bone of his own to start working on. One of the others throwing a name at him thoughtlessly. “And how she got you all out. I’m sure she’d uh, she’d appreciate her story being told.”

Pyionr offers a shaky, wet smile and launches into the story of where he’d started and the Olive that had gotten him and the rest of their small number away from the culling about to end them.

Rufioh listened with an eager ear, adding the proper engagement whenever he could. Yeah this was what this whole tradition was all about, memories and sharing the fact that these trolls had been alive once, had lived and done things worth remembering.

And maybe, just maybe, if this rebellion could only hold out and continue the good work it was doing, if maybe there was a day they could stop burying the names of those lost to the Highblood’s uncaring cruelty… maybe all these loses would be worth it.

Rufioh doubted it, but he had to hope for better days.

~

Pyionr Luffit and Adosja Verdes are both ancestors of two of my fantrolls Prusan and Sylyyx come from tabb https://mobile.twitter.com/tabb_lo Arniya Desmen, Poluxi Actias and Karysa Vrison belong to https://twitter.com/art_avery_