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You are now in the shoes of one Aradia Megido. The year is 200X, and in your frigid metal arms is someone you have known since the very exact second of the dawn of your being. Unfortunately for him, he is dead. It feels almost funny, Karkat was always so fierce and lively when he was well, living. You would feel bad if you could feel bad, really. His loss would be profound if you were not pretty sure nobody would miss him. All that much, anyways.
You are getting distracted; you have to deal with the body. There will be time to deal with sentiments during the ceremony. You stroll with gentle clacks across the tile, your charms jingling and lengthy robes and skirts swirling with your steps. You shift to holding your cadaver in a way that humans would consider bridal as you begin up the steps. You fancy yourself a kind grim reaper of sorts, guiding people through their deaths with a merciful and understanding hand. You smile soft and warm beneath your beaked mask as you gently set Karkat upon the stone slab, taking special care with his head.
You think he would be happy to know you laid him to rest this way. You went all out, traditional, and intricate, styled the way they used to do for high-ranking soldiers. Of course, he was not one, and never could have been. Even ignoring a multitude of things, he was far too young to be anything more than a cadet by the time your society fell.
‘He was the best you had,’ you briefly entertain in your mind.
You take his hands and manipulate them so he is clasping them over his thorax. Sigh once, pray to the messiahs. You peel off your elbow length rich-burgundy gloves with care so as not to touch yourself, then deposit them inside the small torch-cup to both his and your left. Next you drift around with the powder and wood, then light them on your second trip.
The room plumes with the heavy scent of dried Alternian flora, homely and soul-mellowing, but a kick of spice to it. It fits the situation well and leaves you with an added weight in your bones, now physically more than metaphorical. But with this also comes your favourite part, the lightshow. The rest of this is honestly kind of miserable and serious, but this part of the sendoff is more cheery, almost celebratory. Though it takes a moment, the flames eventually eat into the middle layer of powder, then the last, emitting swirling sparks of reds and purples. From scarlets to crimsons to violets to abyssal purple. There are flecks of silver amongst the display as well, a homage to his secrecy around his own blood.
You can almost hear him complain about the reds, and you inform the ringing echo in your head that “red is an imperial c0l0ur t00,” aloud, and do not even feel silly. If he was really there, he seems appeased, or at least that shut him up. That is the upside of being left to do this alone, you suppose, being able to do what is needed without judgement.
You linger for a while, basking in the sendoff. You trail your gaze around the chamber, eyes bouncing off the various personal effects and offerings you had arranged for days prior as you let something in the back of your mind whisp away into a peaceful oblivion.
Your work here is complete. There is nothing left to do but leave. You walk away backwards, keeping your line of sight locked on the cadaver, as is always wise. The sound of your footsteps feels hollower now, though it barely registers. You exit without hiccup, pull the door shut behind you, and lock it. It is an engraved hunk of sturdy metal, also a standard. That too is a testament to his life and death, though in monochrome. You put a lot of work and pride into these things, though with that, like most metalwork, you had the help of Zahhak.
You hum a chipper tune and make your way down to the back room of your graveyard shack, taking a brief intermission to change from your ceremonial garbs to something not possibly contaminated and for that matter more casual before you do anything else. Karkat was not sick when he died, yes, but sometimes disease seeps into the dead and the restless, and those things he is both.
You chortle privately at the poeticism of calling him restless, considering his cause of death. Quite literally speaking without rest. Oh well, he has plenty of time to sleep now. You scrub your hands and hair in the sink, then head back outside through the back door.
You hear a thumping nearby and swivel your head on its joints to scan the landscape for the source. You spot Kanaya, raising her long skirt and hopping over a crater edge not too far from where you stand. She must have come out to check on you or give you news. She might be the current leader, with Karkat gone? You are not one for politics, so you have not checked.
She pauses to wave back at you, after which you both walk towards each other at a leisurely pace and converge in the middle of one of the larger craters. “hell0, what brings y0u 0ut t0 my humble n0where?”, you inquire, genuinely curious.
She lets out a low hum from between her fangs, brows dropping as she delicately dusts herself off. “I Figured I Would Pay My Respects,” she says. A moment passes and she blinks perceivably blinks as the implications of what she said thwack her in the back of the head. She glances to the side and amends herself, “From A Distance Of Course.”
“0h, I didn’t think y0u w0uld want t0. Y0u can stay at the d00r 0f his death-hive until y0u are ready t0 g0, if y0u wish,” you offer. A thought occurs to you, and you chuckle before continuing on, “N0rmal rules still apply, y0u can’t g0 in and bite him.”
She gets a funny look in her xanthic yellow eyes, like you might have caught her in her plot. It fades in seconds, and you let her speak as though it had never occurred, “Do Not Fret, I Believe Myself Intelligent Enough To Understand Safety Measures And Basic Rainbow Drinker Logistics, Such As Caste Limitations.” She side-steps you but rotates on her foot to continue to face you. “I Thank You For The Invitation To Your Grounds,” she says, dipping into a curtsey with a genuine look and a slight frown playing on her face.
“It is my resp0nsibilty t0 all0w m0urning,” you state plainly. You turn away and loosely raise up an arm as you head on your way. “See y0u later,” you shoot behind you. You do not know if she hears you.
You find yourself in a common room deep in the bowels of the bottom floor of the massive building that has been designated the residential complex. Or, massive while only accommodating ten people in total, or twelve while your numbers were that large. Currently you are watching Nepeta and Terezi decorate the wall in front of you with a mural, mostly of amphibious life in the parts you can comprehend. You recline comfortably on a lounge plank Karkat had put there.
Their drawings are playful, the bright pigments and loose forms of Terezi’s handiwork and the rounded shapes and simple strokes of Nepeta’s work well together. Nepeta has been guiding Terezi to ensure she does not blindly paint the same spot over like she did on her own, which is also helping. They are both quieter than usual, though it is especially noticeable on Terezi. Their art is as wonderful as always, making this feel more like a hive and less like an abandoned laboratory. You appreciate what they do for you all.
You get lost in the weave of lines for a while, enjoying your off-duty hours. Eventually the sounds of someone scrambling through the rooms to your left and the crashes of items being tossed pull you out of your stupor and drags the other girls to a guarded halt. Terezi nabs her cane, just in case, and Nepeta gives a small but determined look. The razor-edge of possible impending oblivion is once again over your minds, but it is likely that you are all just skittish. You decide to try to get everyone to calm down by checking out the source yourself, like a lusus removing a spider for a wriggler. You remove a small, wrapped flail from your belt and inch in that direction.
Only to be slid into full force by Kanaya, causing you both to fall over onto the floor. You directly on your back, and her face-first with your metal chassis being a harder hit than the floor. You see a chip of her horn go flying. You feel awful, and begin saying “I’m s0 s0rry, let me help y0u up,” while offering a hand. You get cut off by Kanaya frantically scrambling back onto her feet without a flinch.
“Help Me Barricade The Door,” Kanaya pants before making a beeline for the bookshelf. “Now,” she says, glaring at the pair of confused expressions in the corner.
Nepeta leaps across the room to Kanaya’s aid, and you watch out the door. ‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ you think to yourself, you do not see anything out there. Terezi just slides out of the way. Once the bookshelf has been hefted most of the way across the room, you shut the door and let them block it.
You step out of being Aradia Megido and slip into being Kanaya Maryam. A friend of yours, the sleepless knight, is gone. In his place is an accursed lump of flesh that somehow managed to let himself out the door of his death-hive and follow you. Aradia is opening her mouth to speak; you should likely get ready to explain yourself.
You hastily shuffle away from the blocked doorway and try to regain your breath. “What’s the matter?” Aradia finally offers, after giving you a moment.
“It’s,” you are interrupted before you can even start by a pounding on the barricade and glance over to see it still holding. “It’s Karkat, He Woke up,” you finish, gently placing your head in your hand as you get looks that are accusatory in half and terrified on the other side. “Not My Doing,” you state for the record.