Crimson (homestuck)

Adult Things and Ectobiology

You needed another gin right this instant. Either that holy alcohol manifested itself in your outstretched hand or your whole anatomy would slip off into the void like a particularly sloppy mudslide. You willed this to transpire-the physics defying materialization of your drink, that is. Not the mudslide though, honestly, if this hypothetical mudslide consisted of Bailey's Irish Cream and Kahlua coffee liqueur rather than earthy debris, then you would certainly receive it with a welcoming embrace.

You stared so fiercely at your sweating palm and slim fingers that you were nearly certain that you could conjure both the gin and the alcoholic application of the mudslide. A condensating crystal glass of clear gin, the slender stem of which was balanced between your middle and ring fingers...a fat margarita glass with that blended heavenly concoction garnished with grated chocolate swirls...

Neither appeared and, quite frankly, that irked you more so than the sudden tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at your chamber door. Your hand fell unceremoniously to the pink sheets of your bed as your visions of alcoholic release evaporated like the unattainable mirage they were.

Now who in their right mind would be summoning your presence at such an hour? Why you'd already retired to your room in the lab and bid The Children not to bother you. They were all out flaunting their youth and wasting away their precious lives doing god only knows what. Making out in the kitchen or drinking their brain cells into the negatives or building robots or scowling at their mothers or playing with pistols and rifles. That's what they were doing. Not knocking at your door...no you were relaxing in your room, enjoying an ultimate mudslide and waiting for the bleary sleep of an alcohol induced unconsciousness.

"Mom?" a soft voice, so gentle in her intent, so innocent in her formative years, whispers through the frosted glass of your room's door. My god, did she have the gumption to address you? In this moment, you wondered what disaster warranted your attention, aid, or other service. She wouldn't come to you for any other reason if not required to do so.

"Yes, sweety, come in." you moan, sitting up on the edge of your bed and wiping your nose on your hand. Blinking to bring the door into focus, you watch eagerly as she enters cautiously. She'd no doubt found this childish bedroom of yours, though it be nestled deep within Skaialabs, and thus you felt no shame in her presence in this bright pink lodging. Once upon a time, it might have humiliated you for it to be revealed to your daughter that, beneath your debonair demeanor, a young girl's interests begged attention. Never mind that now, however.

"What can I do for you, dear?" you ask, patting the unoccupied space of mattress beside you and smiling motherly at her. The motherese tone slipped into your voice by its own apparent need for her love, you thought. You nearly flinched at the sweet and sugary way your larkesque accent sounded. She would reject that motherly tone, you knew even before her lips pursed disapprovingly. She thought you were mocking her and being the passive aggressive dictator she thought you to be. Oh sweety, please don't think I'm mocking you.

"John, Dave, Jane, and I explained the game tribulations to Mr. Egbert and Mr. Crocker." She replies, her dainty hands moving almost reflexively to smooth her skirt. She is trying not to look around the room, you notice; her eyes remained fixedly on your face (though not your eyes). She shifts uncomfortably, her jaw muscles fluttering as she seems to hesitate in continuing. Was she going to ask something of you? Perhaps she merely sought your approval since she had taken the initiative of aiding in revealing such a terrible occurrence to The Fathers. In your honest opinion, The Children should've just left those poor men in the dark.

"Can you elucidate some of it to them as well? Perhaps hearing the truth from an adult will solidify our validity." She tells you, not asks. It didn't escape your attention that her eyes happened to leave your face when she'd called you an 'adult'. Had she really ever seen you as more than a patronizing older sister? Had you ever seen yourself as more than a child playing grown-up?