All your dreams are down below

the gravedigger

It was time.

The Gravedigger had been counting down the days at this point. He knew when the time was coming. That time was now. Four cycles had passed since he hatched near the Spire and its training was...not complete, in his opinion, but as far as he would get here in the caves.

Perhaps he could learn more on the surface, when he went. Well, he would. He figured he would learn a great number of things up there. Fighting different, less "animal" things, perhaps fighting giant monsters like he had in Eridanus (and that had gone extremely well I promise) but he really hoped he would get to destroy things. Lots of things. He was ready for it.

But, there was one last thing he needed to do before he went. It had been turning around in his head for some time. This was his last chance.

He and Eleven were...he liked to think they were friends. They'd spared a few times over the cycles, went on adventures, found Noctua (and were promptly denied entry), and talked. It was weird. He wasn't made for making friends. He was made to be a weapon. But he'd done it anyways.

Friends. Yeah. You could call them that. Probably the only friend he made. And the only one he'll ever had.

So, he wanted to do something special. Before he left. He stepped through Draco, swinging his head around for the familiar hyena-esque shape, until he found it. "Hey, Eleven, uh. Can we talk real quick?"

buried under broken bones

@V-Chaos-Eleven

Their ears swiveled toward the lumbering gait of the Gravedigger, the tell-tale noise of his massive nails against the rock floor. It was a sound that was easy to memorise, to store quickly and safely for later use.

Eleven hadn't been counting the days, because they didn't have to, and they didn't want to. They weren't the one leaving, they didn't need to worry on his behalf. They hated the idea of how it'd consume them both, and the time they shared doing nothing in particular.

Everyone here seemed to act out of obligation - they liked how incidental hanging out with Gravedigger felt. They just happened to get along with each other.

The reality of the situation was tucked somewhere in the back of their mind. They turned, casual. This didn't have to be anything either. "Yeah?"

@Gravedigger

All your dreams are down below

the gravedigger

His friend turned, so casual. So different then the deep-set nervous energy that the Gravedigger was feeling at this moment. Excitement, was it? Or anxiety? Excitement for the change, for the battles ahead, for the purpose he had been created for at last fulfilled? Or anxious for failure, for the unfamiliar future, and for the loneliness he would surely experience without the easy natural friendship that had gotten him through the cycles?

He stared for a moment, unsure how to start. Would this be the last view he got of his friend?

His throat cleared. "Okay. Well. I'm leaving." He was never one for subtly or gentleness. "Or...soon, I think. I just wanted to say goodbye." He looked to Eleven to gauge their reaction. "It's been. Fun. I don't know if I'll find any friends out there. So I wanted to say thanks. For being my friend." He remembered the question he'd asked them after they'd met - would they forget him? He wondered if he should ask it again now that they had known each other longer. Now that they faced the last meeting. The last sight of each other.

buried under broken bones

@V-Chaos-Eleven 2 months later

Eleven felt, almost immediately, that she'd made a mistake. She couldn't address it, any of it - all she could do was hesitate. Readjust, reset, try again. Her quills stiffened, then settled.

"Okay."

They should say more than that.

"Goodbye."

No, not- it can't just be this. They had to have something buried, something better. They began to dig inside themselves, claws shredding through old tissue, tearing through old thoughts to find something of worth. The refuse scattered, floated upwards, caught in their throat -

Eleven stared blankly back, unsure of where she was.

@Gravedigger

All your dreams are down below

the gravedigger

The Gravedigger stared. Surely....surely Eleven had more to say then that? He didn't know her to be particularly expressive but a simple "Goodbye" as if he hadn't meant anything, as if they hadn't meant anything. As if the last few cycles hadn't been training and hardship cut through by a surprising, easy, natural friendship that had seen Gravedigger through it...as if that didn't matter after all.

During his training, he'd received bruises and cuts and aching limbs. Through battle he'd been scourged and slammed and stabbed and suffered pain so blinding he thought he would never recover, not even the chrysalis could save him. It did, but it had been hard. Yet none of these things hurt more then this.

He wasn't prepared for that. Had never been taught that. It wasn't something he needed, was it? On the surface or wherever he was going to go. Perhaps he wasn't even supposed to need it here. Or anywhere. Not him. Not V-Chaos-Fifteen, the Gravedigger, a beast of Chaos, created as a weapon to be used as Rrevalk and his Hands and his Masters saw fit. He didn't need to know how to handle heartbreak.

He was quiet as he struggled to realign himself with existence after that had momentarily thrown him out of it. He tried to come up with something to say in return but nothing could fill that gap of silence after Eleven said her cold goodbye. He just blinked. And stared. And eventually cleared his throat. "Yeah. Bye." And looked away. She'd leave now. She said her goodbye. He would wait here for Vargas or Dhracia or whoever was gonna throw him out of this cold and miserable place.

buried under broken bones

@V-Chaos-Eleven

What the hell was she supposed to say?
Eleven churned, teeth grinding together as they fought against the current that kept them in place, complacent, apathetic. He was leaving and he was never coming back.

Gravedigger turned to leave.

Her ears flattened, fur bristling. "HEY, asshole. Why don't you wait for me to speak? Unless you're sooo eager to fucking... Leave forever." Never mind that she still didn't know what to say. Eleven's tail shifted from side to side against the floor, hoping to exert energy in a less antagonistic way.

They huffed, having to readjust yet again. "I'm sorry. I don't know what... I don't know." This was embarrassing. They'd taken refuge in the fact the Gravedigger hadn't made them feel this discomfort before, and now that's they were: Stumbling, confused. Stepping on each other's toes. "I haven't done this before."

"What do you want me to say? What would make any of this feel better?"

@Gravedigger

All your dreams are down below

the gravedigger

He paused as soon as Eleven spoke, glancing back, hopeful. Maybe he was wrong...?

Of COURSE he was wrong, he was so stupid. She was just as unsure as he was and he could see it now. He hadn't seen it in the stiffness or the single words, when she usually had more then a few syllables to say. But he could see it now, in the frustration, and in the very overt words saying "Hey, I don't know how to handle this kind of thing, either." It was oddly comforting.

He didn't realize the extent of his nerves, how anxious he was for his 'performance', and for this. How do you say goodbye?

"Sorry. Um, I don't know. I don't really...know how to do this either." He looked down at his claws and scraped a bit at the ground. "I'm eager, but not...not that eager." It went unsaid, because he didn't have the strength to say it - he wasn't eager to leave his friend.

"I don't want to leave on like. A weird note. Um." He struggled to remember what he'd planned to say, and ended up tripping and stumbling right through his words. "I know it hasn't been, uh, very long. But I'll miss you. Wish you could come with me. I mean...I don't, because of the war and stuff, but you know. To have the company." He shrugged. He was so fucking stupid. "You don't really have to say anything just. I don't know."

buried under broken bones

@V-Chaos-Eleven

Nothing was okay and nothing was going to make it okay. All they could do is stare and mumble their apologies. Somewhere inside of Eleven, somewhere ugly, wet and truthful, knew this was it. This was all there was going to be, and they'd live and die worlds apart. It was all their own faults - they'd picked the wrong people.

They weren't sure if they were fully listening, if what he was saying mattered at all. It was pissing them off, actually. How dare you try to talk your way out of this feeling, these last few minutes. He was pretending to be something he wasn't. Pretending to be something more than what they were. Are.

Eleven was sick of faking. They were a Valkhound, damn it. Valkhounds don't talk, they-

"I want to bite you."

@Gravedigger

All your dreams are down below

the gravedigger

She almost cut him off, cut right through his words with a sudden declaration of intent. And he couldn't help but be a little surprised by it. Why should he be surprised, though? Hadn't their relationship started with that, with a brawl, in which they'd bitten and clawed and thrown each other to the ground?

He did not desire to bite her. Because biting was for food and rocks. He had been built to be a tunneler, to kill from below. His jaws had been equipped as crushers, his saliva a burning acid. His bite was to destroy. He did not want to destroy her.

But she was not him. She did not have the same explosive temper, mild mannered until the moment of eruption. She did not have tunneling claws and feelers and bar-like ears, she just had her little claws and teeth. She is a valkhound. (He is also a valkhound. Why did he not feel like that too? Why did he feel other ways?) And he didn't want to deny her this, if that's what she needed. Because they both needed something right now, he just didn't know how to deliver.

So he simply stared at her, unsure what to do, and said "O-okay." Was he supposed to do something else? Was there some other way she wanted him to react?

buried under broken bones

@V-Chaos-Eleven

There was a long pause. Too long. Why didn't this come more naturally? Why could nothing be easy for once in their god damned, miserably short lives? Why is everyone choosing to make this harder. Do you hate Eleven? You could just say so.

Maybe they should both die, right here and now. Maybe moving forward was what was fucking everything up. It considered this as it inched closer, jaw ajar, sucking air through the small gaps between their teeth. Some kind of infection in them, a fever, was enthusiastic about this prospect. Oblivion forever. Fire and death and blood and pain and from that, an eternity of pleasure. None of this matters. Let it burn.

It was forgetting something. "Can I bite you?" Valkhounds don't ask for permission, but Eleven does.

@Gravedigger