Miracle Rondo

 Gamzee was so tired of expectations. He could master so many things those three times his age could not claim and yet, at others, he fumbled like a wiggler. He stood in the block, waiting for the warden to appear impatiently. He felt a moment's nostalgia for sopor pie and quashed it. He let his chucklevoodoos unwind and seek out close minds. His displeasure would be let known. He knew where he stood. His patron had made sure of that.

 He bore his teeth at the thought of his ancestor. Though ancestors meeting their descendants was rare below a certain caste, it was common enough that a system of dealing with it had been put into place. Supposedly, it was auspicious for ancestor and descendant to meet and connect as protege and student, united in purpose. In practice, the purple was often annoyed and opposite of his ancestor. They shared signs perhaps but not souls or viewpoints. They had at best, a difficult, temperamental relationship.

Tonight was a night Gamzee was expected to attend to his meager duties as a subjuggulator and see to prisoners. Others had caught them but it was time for questioning. Putting fear into their bloodpushers would soften them plenty and he didn't have to kill them though he was sure a few would die. Accidentally or 'accidentally'. The warden came in, visibly sweating enough that Gamzee almost suspected that it was Equius. Equius worked an altogether different post however. "Ah, young Makara. I apologize for the delay. I was detained by a brawl. The instigators were culled." The words were tight, fear cutting the words to miraculous things.

 He grinned at the warden. "Ah, shit slurrybro. You will just have to explain it to the big top ringmaster, won't you?" He let those sardonic words sink into the warden's thinkpan. "Now, you wanna improve my morning?"

 The official swallowed. "Ah. There is a perogative. Those on the cull list can be claimed as chattel. That was a favored one for those of your age for a long while but not recently. You may like a warmblood to toy with as you please. They are cullbait anyway. No one cares." He suggested.

Gamzee felt both interest and disgust war inside him and merely kept his face placid. "Show me the ones I'm supposed to be up and questioning. We take care of business first, brother." He almost snarled, bearing his fangs.

 The questioning went arguably well, with blood only mildly splattering his uniform such as it was. More deaths to the Makara name, volumous as they were. It was like flinging basins into the wide salty seas. The warden next took him to the holding cells of those to be culled as public example. Many nursed various wounds, broken bones and blood lay heavy on the air. Some wept, some stared with angry eyes while some stared at nothing, knowing their painful fates at hand. One was bound in a cell alone, a brownblood with an impressive rack of horns. He did not understand until he saw brown fuzzy things straining against the ropes. Panicked despair hung rank on the air in his cell. He seemed hesitant as Gamzee looked in. "Who are you, miraculous motherfucker?" He asked of the lowblood, suspecting but not wanting it to be true.

 The troll was his age, still young even for his caste. "Tavros uhh. Tavros Nitram." The troll stammered softly.

 Gamzee stopped cold. "What are you in here for, brother?"

 He didn't answer at first. "Because I was uh, in the area." He told Gamzee. "And I uh, have a mutation from second pupation."

 That could be true. He turned to the warden and nodded. "This one."

 Perigees of time passed as Gamzee continued his training, duties and kept Tavros close, holding his hand and trying to actually earn his trust and heart. How successful he actually was he could hardly tell. Some days  were good, some bad. Tavros was happy to have someone kind to him and glad of both life and flight but it could never be far enough and never long enough. Tavros wanted freedom, not just survival. The mornings were Gamzee's sacrament.

If Gamzee had a gentleness for Tavros, no one else got it. He was just as viscious and growing more. He missed his moirail and the empire was doing it's best to hammer him into a subjuggulator's place. None noted so much as the large presence whom all but the Condesce feared and even she gave him proper leeway and respect.

Gamzee was with the brownblood, who was working on communing with a small creature that had wandered in close when a mountain of a troll approached them. Gamzee could feel who it was and kept calm and where he was. Anyone else would have risen or bowed, if not prostrated themselves in the old way.

 "Wiggler. You are forgetting yourself." He spoke his words in a booming voice, standing with legs bent in a wide stance.

Gamzee smiled mildly. "Ah, ancestorbro, ain't it just a motherfucking miracle you are here to remind me?" He almost snarled the words through the smile.

 "Gamzee, what-" Tavros turned and went silent in shock at the sight of the Grand Highblood.

 The elder turned and looked something Gamzee had not seen before-surprised. "Well isn't this the biggest motherfucking miracle. You will learn your fucking place, little clown and I will show you by taking away your miraculous toys. Bow." He snarled, looking almost feral.

 Gamzee was bowled over by the chucklevoodoos, his bloodpumper pounding in his head. The Grand Highblood forced Gamzee's gaze upward. "You will watch, motherfucker as I take the Summoner's spawn."

 "Uhh, I don't thi-" Tavros sounded terrified as the tall adult stepped in close and cut off Tavros' protest with a kiss.

 Gamzee could not move as the highblood traced claws down a panicking Tavros' chest. His other hand undid Tavros' pants. "Summoner. You motherfucker. Even in death you leave me presents of the blackest kind. Shallow lookalike, imposter-" He tore the pants and attended to his own covering, his bulge sinuously moving against itself as he began rubbing at the younger troll. "Come on out to play, little Summoner..." The mocking words were a horror next to the terror slick with purple fluid.

 Tavros was huffing, hyperventilating and let out a strangled sound as his bulge slithered out from its sheath. He made more sounds as the highblood inserted fingers into his nook. In and out they went, as Tavros' bulge became slick and he began moaning. Gamzee felt sick and enraged.

Tavros gave a sharp cry as the highblood thrusted into him and a sob shook him. The troll traced and stroked Tavros' bulge, chasing out the moans that made him grin. "That's right, lowblood slut. Keep your moans up for your betters."

Tavros didn't speak anything comprensible as the Grand Highblood thrust and teased cries from him. Tavros cried as brown material splashed against his stomach. The Grand Highblood snarled as he held Tavros in place and the smaller troll felt shame as he felt the rush of the troll's material inside his nook.

He lay there as the elder stood, taking out cloth and cleaning himself off. "I will not kill him. Yet. I will do it again the next time you show me that arrogance, wiggler. And then I will fucking rape you, too and make you my miracle toy. I will stretch your thinkpan like a wire until that shit breaks and you will beg me to do it again."

 Gamzee forced himself to nod and stayed where he was until his ancestor left. He would make him pay, Gamzee swore.

There was much to do before then.