Chapter Text
He looked away only for a moment, sure she could handle herself, as she’d proven time and time again. But for once, the two of them had faced a challenge that managed to trick them. After thoroughly knocking the two heads off of a construct, he turned around to see Nepeta in the tight grasp of one of the largest monstrosities they had yet faced. Around them was a surplus of grist. They had both beat the beasts that distracted them from the worse enemy, and it could have picked either of them, but didn’t. It chose Nepeta. Equius leaped up and with only a few hard knocks the beast was slain and he caught his dying moirail, bones crushed, blood leaking from her mouth and eyes, just barely breathing. Instead of planting his lips on her broken face, he ran, as quickly as he could, leaping over the constructs, breaking sugar cubes and caking the two of them with the sweet dust. Atop of the highest mound of sugar, resting on the largest teapot, was her quest cocoon. He entered it and placed her on her slab, waiting for her to breathe her final fluid filled breath.
As he watched her body rise above him aglow, he was relieved. She’d live. She’d live forever. After she reawakened, pouncing him with a hug, he realized he never had to worry about her short lifespan ever again. Instead, she’d have to worry about his. The thought of making her suffer the pain that he had always prepared to face made him realize what he had to do. At first she protested, not wanting to see him hurt, but after a long discussion that went mostly like this:
CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes AC: :33 < no CT: D --> Yes
she agreed to help him, to stay there with him as he passed on in his own cocoon. And after his divine transformation, he finally felt at ease, knowing that the two of them would never have to watch the other die again.
They weren’t the only ones that were rehatched into new life. Poor Tavros had been tricked, left for dead by his server player. She said she wanted to help. She always said she was helping. But this time she had taken it too far. The manipulative tendrils of her mind snagged onto his, and forced him to stop communing with the constructs. She said he needed to fight them to get stronger, to earn more levels, add his fair share to the grist pile. She said he needed to stop bossing them around and just defeat them already. With just a plush lance in his hand, he knew he was done for. She wouldn’t let him abscond, convinced his fight or flight reaction would resort to fight when flight was no longer an option. She was wrong. And she absconded.
The last thing he remembered before waking up with sudden feeling in his toes was cold metal holding him, and glassy red eyes looking down at him. But when he had arisen, Aradiabot was nowhere to be seen. When he asked her, she said she had no idea what he was talking about. Must have been a future one then.
Tavros had never felt so powerful in his entire life. But, predictably, Vriska bragged on and on that he had achieved this new body, this high confidence, sick breath powers, and finally could fly all because of her benevolent help. Udder hoofbeast manure. Tavros knew the only help he got was from Aradia, even if she claimed not to know herself.
His newfound strength and abilities didn’t really change him all that much. Even though he could fly and had an exciting adventure of his own, he still kept his hive windows open just in case Pupa Pan just happened to float by. And his new appearance made him believe in fairies all the more. The only thing he really put behind him after a while was Rufio. He felt he made his self confidence proud and wasn’t worried about hurting or disappointing him anymore.
By the end of the session, these were the only three that ascended. Either nobody else had faced disaster, or they simply didn’t feel it necessary to seek godhood. They wore their bestowed outfits with pride. Particularly Tavros. Regardless of how often others made fun of his lack of pants. Why change? He was meant to wear it. He saw it as a gift from the game and who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? Also, the novelty of pinching and prodding at his own legs simply to feel the sensation hadn’t gotten old.