#misfit fretin

[trollcafe]

switcharoo

tw: blood ment, death ment  Rienah has a dream.  Google Docs Link 

Ocean waves crashed into the rocks below. You leaned over the railing, breathing in the salty cool air, and felt at ease. Your coffee was steaming as you took a sip. You wondered, briefly, where your matesprit had gone off to. She was supposed to meet you outside with her tea. 

You looked over your shoulder, back inside your hive. The balcony doors had been left open, but the drapes were billowing towards you, blocking the view. You could faintly hear music. You couldn’t quite make out what the song was. It was scratchy, hard to make out, as if coming from Bonnie’s record player. 

She only used the record player when rehearsing. A glance at the sky confirms how odd it would be for your matesprit to be practicing at this hour. The drapes beckon you inside, reaching for you. You heed their call. The cloth whisps past your face with tender touches. 

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the darkness inside your hive. Your hands grip the coffee tighter, grateful for their warmth as the cold air settles into your skin. Has the hive always been this empty? It must have. It looked deliberate. Bonite would say the Fleet was taking your memories again, that she’d done this intentionally. Lo and behold, Bonite was standing before you. 

Or, well, she was dancing. Her back was to you while she moved through the cold air. She was slow, but graceful as ever. You watched her in a silent awe. The music was still faint and unrecognizable, but you knew her moves well. You knew the curve of her body and the way she held her shoulders. Her pale blue leotard and her worn down pointe shoes were a familiar sight. After a few silent moments, you would realize that something felt off. There was water running from somewhere in the hive, a tap left dripping. It certainly wasn’t cold enough outside to warrant such a thing. You glance behind you only to find the balcony doors had been shut. 

You look back to Bonite. Her movement has become less smooth, now more jagged in nature. Her form was never this messy. You take a few steps closer and freeze. You noticed a dark puddle growing under your matesprit’s feet. 

“Bonnie-?” You were worried she wouldn’t hear you over the music with how soft your voice had been. But she did, of course she did. Your beautiful matesprit looked back over her shoulder towards you. Where you expected a smile, there was nothing. Your matesprit’s face was gone. 

You drop your drink in fear. As the mug falls, Bonite crumples to the floor. Shattered porcelain and your shattered matesprit. You’re almost too shaken to go to her side, but thankfully your Fleet training does kick in for a few seconds. 

At her side on your knees, you pick her up. Her body is frail, cold, empty, littered with bruises of neglect and over abuse. Even in your shock, you can’t choke back tears, then sobs. Her leotard was smudged with violet where it seemed she tried to wipe the blood away. Much to your horror, her appearance only worsened as you tried to hold onto her. You tried to will the life back into her. With each grief-stricken sob, she rotted further in your arms. There was no saving her. 

You woke with a violent start. You had fallen asleep leaning against your kismesis’ shoulder, somehow, while he was doing something else. Honestly the worst time to have a nightmare like this but you’d reflect on that later. You grip your chest, trying desperately to slow your breathing or your heart rate. Obsidian turned his attention to you now, of course he did. You think he might’ve said something but your ears were ringing. It felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room for both of you. Did he set his hand on your shoulder? Or is it a phantom feeling?

You shake it - or him - off and stand up. You just needed to leave. The base you were restocking at wasn’t the biggest but it was better to walk around. You held yourself close, walking fast to shake off the feeling of being followed. To shake off the memory of her face. Why did you remember this dream? Why couldn’t you remember the happy dreams? Why did it still feel like she was in your arms, rotting away? 

You start running. You were horrified that someone was still following you. That you’d look over your shoulder and see the balcony doors closed again, you’d see her battered corpse. As the feelings grow overwhelming, tears threaten to spill. Salvation was just up ahead. 

You crash into Misfit. The lanky fuchsia was nearly knocked over in surprise, but somehow managed to hold both of you up. He looked confused for a second as you held onto him. Your shaky breaths must’ve tipped him onto what was happening. After a second, he took hold of your hand. A silent means of permission. You close your eyes. Numbness washes over you. Then, you feel warm. Security. Comfort. Protectiveness. The emotions Misfit had just been feeling. 

The fuchsia pulls you to the ground with him, and starts to sob. You hold him in your arms as he cries for you, feels horror for you, grieves your lover for you.

[trollcafe]

An hour left at work…..

Orbitt had fins when he was younger! Being a cusp, he had fins but no gills, so they were just a cosmetic mutation. He could hide them well enough until he got roped into the pit fighting ring. Fins had to get cut off, but he doesn’t mind. Sometimes his ears hurt or when he’s nervous he’ll tug at em. His ancestor, on the other hand, has fins & gills, so Misfit is able to function as like a second hand fuchsia in the fleet. Misfit works with Rienah’s crew.