Songs for the Captors

Heavydirtysoul

A/N: Here, have a slightly sad story for a character I love and am I sorta good roleplayer of.

~~~Starting point~~~

You have seen a lot and done even more. You've done even worse working for Condesce and you know what that's done? Made the voices worse, so you find yourself humming a lot to drone them out. It's a habit you've had since you were a wriggler and started to interact with people and heard their voices of when they'll eventually die; the inconsiderate whispers that turned to screams once the sun went down. Everyone thought you were crazy.

This is not rap, this is not hip-hop. Just another attempt to make the voices stop.

If you weren't humming, you were thinking. That's how your guards always knew you were in your thoughts, if the Helmsman block was quiet. The silence was eerie, to them seeing as they assumed you had finally died if they were new, but to you it was great. No humming meant that your mind was quiet and you finally had time to clear your thoughts, relax as much as you can in the state that you're in.

It's just right now I got a really crazy mind to clean.

You would find yourself tearing up sometimes. You're already emotional, emotionally unstable as everyone liked to call it that had a medical degree, but the tears came from your memories. You missed Signless—or would it be Sufferer now?—deeply and it hurt you every time you thought about what they did to him. That evil, despicable clown who wanted nothing more than to see him burn and use his blood for his...'murals'. How could they? How could they-no, how dare they? You never fully start crying, Signless would tell you not to.

Gangstas don't cry, therefore, therefore I'm, Mr. Misty-eyed, therefore I'm.

You remember first meeting Signless and the rest of them. He was so sweet and gentle while you, on the other hand, were preparing yourself to kill him if he tried to harm you in the slightest. Your psiioniics danced around your horns like a lightning storm and he was intrigued, but didn't ask you about them. He instead just pet your hair and told you to come with them, seeing as you obviously had nowhere to go and was a runaway slave. He told you to trust him and you did. He made your soul feel clean and...sinless.

Can you save my heavydirtysoul? For me, for me, uh. Can you save my heavydirtysoul?

You want to die. There's no way around it, above it, or underneath it. You want to disappear, you want your bloodpusher to stop doing just that. You want to rest. With Condesce liking you and always breathing her life into you, you never will. You just want her to stop one day, get another toy to play with so that you'll become one of those abandoned ones that's relieved to be abandoned. You've already started to deteriorate physically, why can't she just let you go? You aspire to be a dead troll.

Death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit. 

~~~Finish line~~~

A/N: This is lowkey the best thing I feel like I've ever written. I like all of my stories, I do, but this one is so great and so Psii. Until next time. - Sollux

Underline #1: I figure since Sollux is canon bipolar, he had to get it from someone, so it makes sense for him to have it. 

Underline #2: I ship GHBPsii and I adore it, but like yea, I had to add some disdain into it.