to the depth..., Chapter One

It feels as though you have always pitied Eridan Ampora.

Even before you knew his name, you pitied him. Your neighbor, Sollux Captor, was a braggart in addition to being a criminal and a fool. He would often barge into your hive, sneering at your paintings and your movies – and you would thank the Mother Grub every time that you always kept your robots carefully concealed in the basement, never once, no matter how much you were tempted, bringing them upstairs – and recounting all the various petty torments he visited on his platonic rivals in the hacker community. Gradually a single name began to emerge from the endless narrative, repeated over and over with a corrupted condescension that had nothing to do with fondness and everything to do with contempt. For that alone you would have pitied this 'Eridan Ampora,' especially after Sollux repeated with twisted delight the shaky, half-formed declaration of caliginous longings he'd taunted Eridan into making. Hadn't your study of romance shown you what a tragedy it was, to long for another in any quadrant when they did nothing but spit in your face?

But there were so many more reasons than that to pity Eridan Ampora. He was a mutant, Sollux learned quickly and just as quickly passed on to you; though he hid the color of his blood behind anonymous grey, your neighbor had grown impatient with his sniveling denials and brutally torn the knowledge from his mind. It was red; not the rusty color that occupied the absolute lowest end of the hemospectrum, but a bright, candy shade that didn't even exist on the hemospectrum at all. By all rights such an affront to the natural order should have been culled immediately; Sollux could have easily done it himself, or at least reported Eridan to the Heir Apparent if he'd suddenly developed a squeamish streak, but you knew he wouldn't. He was enjoying himself too much; he kept Eridan as one might keep a glowbug in a jar, throwing it a few twigs every now and then to keep it alive, and tilting the jar this way and that just to make it flutter. It amused him to keep this secret from the princess, just as it amused him to shock you with detailed accounts of the humiliations he visited on his new toy. And as for you? Of course you would never tell; how could you risk anything that might lead to the demise of one you pitied so much?

In addition to being a mutant, he was also a weakling and a coward; he was so frightened of discovery and the culling that would surely follow that he dared not show his face to anyone, even his closest neighbors. Sollux claimed he had not set foot outside his hive in over a sweep, and you saw no more reason to doubt this piece of information that any other he had given you. But keeping himself isolated couldn't protect him forever; he would need quadrants, allies willing to overlook his defect for the sake of his companionship. Allies such as yourself, you thought, but never said, and you were always careful to mask your true feelings with irritated disinterest whenever Sollux spoke of him.

The irritation, at least, was not difficult to feign; you hated hearing about the torments Sollux visited on him. The trick was maintaining your mask of disinterest; the redder your feelings grew, the more Eridan's suffering angered you, until you longed to simply reach out and tear Sollux's head from his shoulders just to make it stop. But you refrained; you knew Eridan would never thank you for killing the man he wanted to make his kismesis, no matter how outmatched he was. The final entry on his long list of faults: he had a stubborn streak, which kept him tirelessly throwing himself at a chosen goal until either he succeeded, or an outside force intervened.

You sometimes pictured yourself as that outside force; you imagined playing the auspistice, seamlessly inserting yourself into their troubled quadrant and calming them both. You would first convince Sollux to even the playing field; he would gain more amusement from beating Eridan if he did it fairly, without resorting to manipul8ion to get the result he wanted, and you would count yourself fortunate all the while that he couldn't read your mind, for playing at ashen romance was exactly what you would be doing. A real auspistice would then nurture Eridan's self-confidence, help him plan a decisive strike that would catch Sollux's interest and fan the flames of a one-sided caliginous romance until they burst into a mutual conflagration. But that had never been your intention, no; were this to really take place, you would instead sooth Eridan further, discourage him from any action that might impress or anger Sollux, and firmly squash any misguided attempts to avenge his shattered dignity. Sollux would loose interest quickly, once his toy ceased to amuse; you were confident he would soon seek out other amusements, and when that happened you would make a move of your own.

You would begin by offering Eridan comfort; of course he would be upset to lose the eye of someone he was so black for. You would pretend sympathy, and sooth him, and suggest distractions to keep his mind from turning to Sollux once again. It would only be by sheerest coincidence that these distractions would fall in line with your own interests, of course, and that the two of you would grow ever closer, slowly unveiling your faults to each other in an intricate dance that you felt quite sure that he, in his awkwardness, would never recognize as a red courtship until it was too late.

You wondered, briefly, if you should tell him everything you already knew about him, through Sollux. It might help your case, make him more willing to trust you earlier; what reason would he have to fear you, if you already knew all his darkest secrets and pitied him anyway? But on the other hand, his first reaction to the news would almost certainly be panic, and there was no telling what someone with such a nervous disposition might do then. Perhaps it would be better to keep silent after all; you could always tell him later. First you would confess your feelings – no, better yet, first you would lead him into confessing to you. He could not help but overflow with gratitude for all the consideration you'd shown him; even after his rivalry with Sollux faded, and your assistance was no longer required, still you had remained, and he had no idea how he would have gotten through such a dark time without you. He would thank you profusely, and then shyly, tentatively, as though worried he was on the brink of permanently upsetting a delicate balance, reveal that his feelings for you were neither ashen nor platonic. They were red, as red as his blood, and he would tremble in fearful anticipation of your offended wrath.

But of course you could never be angry with him! You would rush to sooth his fears; your relief at hearing those words from his lips would be entirely unfeigned. Assuming of course that the two of you had grown close enough by then to risk physical proximity; best to skim over that minor detail for now.

How would he react, you wondered, when you revealed that you shared his feelings? Happiness, surely; who wouldn't be overjoyed to find their romantic feelings for another reciprocated in kind?  Relief, without a doubt: both at the realization that you weren't offended by his advances, and perhaps at the thought that you could use your lofty social position to protect him far better than he could himself, which surely would have occurred him at some point during your interactions with each other. And protect him you would; you'd guard him, and coddle him, and never let him come to any harm.  Of course there were certain risks he could not avoid taking; the society you both lived in would never allow otherwise. But you would be there to guide and comfort him through any hardship he faced. Perhaps in time he would even allow you to choose a new kismesis for him, one better suited to his meager strengths…

But it was only a foolish fantasy. You'd built a castle in the air out of your hopes and dreams, and without the solid bedrock of reality to hold it up it could do nothing but melt away. Sollux would never accept you as an auspistice; respect was required to make an ashen romance work, and he didn't need to read your mind to know the blatant disrespect he held for you was wholeheartedly reciprocated. And that was assuming he would even think the idea worth considering: doubtful; he would sooner laugh in your face than even think of amending a situation he could derive so much amusement from. And Eridan…He didn't even know you. What would he think of you, once an acquaintanceship had been made? Would he pity you for your similarities, or, as was far more likely, loathe you for your differences? For the sake of your dignity, you pretended ignorance of the contemptuous opinion your acquaintances held for you; but it was only pretending. They just didn't understand you, that was all; hardly anybody did, and you thought you were used to it. But if Eridan were to join their number…how could you bear it?

You couldn't even bear to entertain the thought of rejection. You'd taken care to mention your feelings to nobody, not even your moirail; it was easy to maintain your silence now and save yourself the disappointment. Feferi may have picked up on the new depth to your moodiness, bless her, but she had worries of her own, and was far too grateful for your advice to push the issue. It really was better this way, you assured yourself over and over, silently hoping you could convince yourself it was true through sheer repetition. Surely Eridan did not need you so much as you'd led yourself to believe; he'd managed to take care of himself so far, and would surely continue to do so. And as for you…well, you supposed you would get over him in due time. Gradually, you even began to look forward to the time when you would find someone else to pity.

But once again, you proved yourself the fool. Just a brief glimpse, that was all it took; if you had blinked but a second earlier, you would have missed it completely. But once you caught that glimpse of Eridan's face, all your pretty fantasies and resolutions turned out to be nothing but insubstantial void after all.