Your name is Sollux Captor, and you are standing behind a tree spying on another troll. This troll looks almost exactly like you, save for the helmet and bodysuit. You have been watching him for almost an hour now, and are completely in shock. When you found a way into the dream world, KK told you that the ancestors did infact exist, and that they looked like slightly older versions of themselves. When you asked if he had met his other self, he said he had, and did not like it. This struck you as somewhat odd, as you thought he would take that as a chance to ask the other him about how to control his anger. He didn't. Nobody asked their ancestors anything. Nobody wanted to speak to their ancestors. They were all afraid of them.
Afraid? Afraid of what? They was them! They were just like them but older,so why was everyone afraid to speak to them? You found this to be completely stupid, and vowed you would speak to yours by the end of the day. Kanaya was quick to inform you that they were not just like them in every way, and that your ancestor especially was not one to make assumptions about. At first you laughed, and said it was nothing, that at the most, he was probably just smarter or something, but KK then mentioned that his ancestor was nothing like him at all. He told you how his alternate self was a speaker, and a snob, and how Kanaya's alternate self was a feminist sex machine. As the others spoke of their alternate selves, you snorted and turned. So they looked like you but acted different? Big deal. They were still you.
With that thought going through your head, you set off to find this other you. It had been easy enough. The look alikes of your friends pointed to where he usually was and waved you off. You had to admit you was a bit surprised. Feferi's alternate self was nothing like her at all, and KK had been right about his other self being a douche. Vriska's other self was really nice and polite for the most part, and what's more, they seemed to have a better grasp on their abilities. The closer you got to where your ancestor was suppose to be, the more you started to wonder just what he would be like.
Not that you was worried or anything. You wouldn't be a coward about it like the others had. No, you would tell the guy straight to his face who you were, and why you was there. You would be so confident and cool, he'd be in awe at the sight of you. You was so going to do this.
Or so you thought.
And now, here you stand, hidding behind a tree looking at the other you. You've never been so shocked and disapointed in your life. Your other self isn't like the other alternate's. He is very different. And in a way that makes your stomach do flips.
You watch from behind your hidding place as he rocks back and forth while drawing little doodles in the dirt. He's wearing a helmet and skin tight bodysuit, and the tip of his tongue is hanging past his teeth with a tiny smile. He twitches and shakes every few moments, and after a few minutes of drawing, suddenly yells a long line of profanity and starts pounding his fists into the dirt, ruining his picture of scribbles. He's making tiny gasping noises as he wraps his arms around his legs and pouts. He mumbles a string of words under his breath, and falls onto his back with a flop.
You can't believe it. You don't want to believe it.
You are the smartest of all the other trolls from your group of friends, and the alternate you is brain damaged. You want to run. Run as far away from this broken you as you possibly can. But your legs refuse to move, and your claws are clutching the bark of the tree for dear life. You try to will yourself to let go and just suck it up, but you can't. You can't bring yourself to speak to him. You don't want to speak to him. You don't want to look at him anymore. You tell yourself that its time to stop pretending to be brave and split, but as you think this, he sits up and spot you.
Your breath catches and your eyes widen as he stares at you. He doesn't say anything. Just stares. You swallow and wait to see what happens. Nothing does. He just stares.
You take a deep breath and decide that you should say to make him stop staring at you. You step into plain sight and wave.
"Uh,Hi?" you say weakly. He just looks at you through his visor with his mouth open. Oh Gog, is he drooling? You cough and take a step forward.
"So, um, I was just taking a walk and saw you, and thought I'd say hi or something. So, hi." you say with a disinterested look to the side. You glance back waiting for his answer just to see him staring at you like before. You kick the ground uncomfortably and speak.
"So, I'm Sollux. Whats your name?" you ask not looking at him. He doesn't say anything before a queer smile spreads across his face and he waves in an over eager manner.
"H-hi Sol-Sollis." is all he says before going back to drawing in the dirt. Okay? That wasn't your name but.. You shift your wieght to one leg and quirk your head.
"What are you, ah, doing?" you ask looking at the scribbles in the dirt. He had run his hand over the ruined picture from earlier and was working on a different one.
"I'm just dra-drawing a pretty flower. Its for my m-matesprite since she's so beau-be- pretty. I'm gonna show her when its com-compl- done." he said bitting his lips as he tried to pronounce words far to complicated for him. You looked down again and raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"That's a flower?" you ask incredulously. He looks up at you and nods.
"Yeah! See? This is the stem and this is the pett-pettles and stuff. I think. I have ta look at one for a bit to remember." he said as though that was nothing uncommon. You look at the scribbles and lines, making a face as you speak.
"That's not a flower." you state plainly. He stops making patterns in the ground and looks at you with a straight face.
"Yes it is. I just said it was." he says rubbing his cheek and smearing dirt on his face. You frown and reply smoothly.
"Um, no it isn't. It's just a bunch of silly lines." He glares and tenses his fists.
"No its not! Its a flower! Its a pr-pretty flower, and its for my matesprite!" he says loudly and stops his heel into the ground. You snort and point at his creation.
"Dude, I don't know what your seeing, but that is not a flower. You show that to your matesprite and she'll dump your sad self for sure." you state with mockery in your voice. You don't care if he's your ancestor, that is not a fl-
"AUGH! FUCK YOU YA STUPID CUNT SUCKIN-AH I HATE YOU! EAT MY DICK-DUMB-FU-THUPITH-Mnnmr. I HOPE-I CAN'T-AHHH! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOPE NOPE NO!"
... You have no idea what just happened. He was freaking out, and over something so pointless. You watch with your mouth opened in awe as he kicks and punches the picture he was drawing while throwing the biggest tantrum you've ever seen. His face is flushed bright yellow as sweat rolls down his neck and wets his suit. Dust is flying and grass scatters as the earth is beaten and punished for existing. He's breathing in short, hard pants now, as his fists starts to bruise and turn a painfull shade of his blood color. You can only watch in shock as you seem to recall somebody telling you he's 9 sweeps old. 9. That would be 19 in human years. And he's on the ground freaking out becuase you made fun of his picture.
"YOU IS A STUPID-I HATE IT! HATE HATE HATE HATE IT! ITS A B-BAD FLOWER AND NEVER BE GOOD! STUPID!"
He's still at it. Wait, stupid flower? You thought he was trying to defend his drawing. So why was he saying now that he hated it?
"IS A DUMB, NO GOOD FLOWER! NEVER BE USE-USEFU- GOOD FOR NOTHIN' AGAIN!"
Never be useful again? Its a dirt drawing of a flower, how was it ever useful to begin with?
"I HATE THIS FLOWER! HATE-HATE BEING- WHY?!"
... You didn't know what to make of this. He wasn't making any sense. You notice that some of the sweat rolling off his face is dotting the dirt and making his hands muddy and sticky. Huh? Some of the sweat was flowing from underneath his eyes.
"I DON'T WANT- I CAN'T MAKE IT WORK! WHY WON'T IT WORK LIKE SUPPOSE TO?!" he yelled with an anger clouded in confusion. You tilt your head as he slows the pounding of his fists until he's just sitting there breathing in raspy breaths. He seems to choke on his own spit for a moment before he starts pulling on his helmet roughly.
"I (gasp) can't (cough) make this work!" he says struggling with the head gear. You raise a brow and choose then to ask.
".. Can't make what work? Your helmet? Here, I'll get it off of you." You walk over to his side and unclasp the buckles on the helmet for the other you and move back. The older you shakes his head and coughs a few more times as he breathes in long, strainned gasps. He then looks at you and points at himself.
".. No (gasp) not that. (gasp) I can't make this work. Can't make me-(cough) good. Can't be- not good anything." he says with tears pouring down his face. He sobs and and twitches, and you look at him with a frown.
"I can't make me do stuff any more.(hiccup) Can't be-(cough) helping." he said with a trembling hand pulling his hair. You lean down and look at him as he bends forward and leans his forehead against the dirt.
"... I broken. I broke me... They broke me. I don't know why, or how, but I broke. I don't know what I did to break me, but I want to go back to what it was and make it stop. Make hurting in head go away. Make bad feelings go away. Make funny tickle in my hands go away... Make me go away.." he said in a whispered voice. You stare at him as he's crying and rocks back and forth on his heels. Now you understand. He was trying to draw himself. The flower was him, and he couldn't make it look like it was suppose to. He couldn't fix it. He couldn't make it what it used to be. That's why he had become upset. That's why he had lashed out at you.
"... I'm the dirt. Can't be good. Can't be helping stuff. Can't be pretty again. Can't be fixed..." he says with a soft, sad whimper. You bite your lip and lean forward. It was just like you. You couldn't be fixed either. The voices would always be there, and the headaches would never leave, no matter how hard you tried. And he was no different. He was suffering the same pain you had. But unlike you, he couldn't talk about it. He couldn't take a nap, or eat mind honey to make the pain go away. He couldn't even remember why he was hurting in the first place. You cave and bring your arms around him. He stills and allows himself to be pulled into your lap.
"... I know. I know it hurts. I know how it feels to be broken. I know how it feels to be unable to fix it. I wish I could make it better... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said it wasn't a flower. It is. It's a very very pretty flower. And you made it. That makes you a pretty flower too." You know it may not be the most smart thing to say, or the most clear thing, but he stops sobbing and looks up at you with empty eyes. Eyes that haven't seen understanding in a very long stares at you for a minute before smiling and blinking rapid succession.
"... What?... Why are you toughing me?" he asks looking at your hand on his back with a confused face. You chuckle. Of course. He didn't remember anything he just did. You ruffle his hair and go to pull your arms away, only to have him latch onto them and throw himself against you.
"No! I like it. Keeps touching me like that. Feels better than when The oth-other guy does it." he says snuggling into your chest. You frown and look at him in question.
"Who's the other guy?" you ask with curiosity. He looks up and tilts his head.
"... What guy? Who'r you talking about?... Hi!" he says smiling up at you. You just laugh softly and let him lay his head against your shoulder as you speak.
".. Nobody. It's nothing. Everything is okay..."
You let him fall asleep on you. And your content. Even when you feel him drooling a little onto your back. Everything is okay.