[GRO] Tamiya Aiguma - Adult

[Hivestuck]

Oh, how time has changed for Tamiya.

Only Sypon may post in this thread; please quote the mule when the growth is complete.

 

[Sypon]

Purple eyes bored into Tamiya from a few feet away. Framed by a weathered grey face, they were thin and discerning. Spotty, fierce wisps of eyebrows twitched, and Tamiya was unfettered. She drew closer and looked at the troll in the mirror. Thick, wiry hair – drawing a few fingers through the chest-length locks, Tamiya forced them all the way down when they became stuck in the tangled clutches. The hair formed a protective black curtain around a lean, strictly regulated form. Scars, burns, punctures, and mottled disfigurations covered the troll from horntip to toenail. Tamiya wrapped her arms around her stomach and rested back on the closed seat of the load gaper. The ablution block was filled with the gauzy orange hues of sunset, casting a sickly warm pall on every porcelain surface. Tamiya had gone to her regular pre-recuperacoon rituals the same she had every morning for who knows how many sweeps of her adolescent life. The intricacies of her make-up distracted her from the tint of her eyes until at last she removed the final thin coat of her pastiche. And, at the time, she had cast off the oddity as sickness. Perhaps a trick of the light. But, she was unable to sleep. Halfway through daylight she rose from her recuperacoon and sat in the ablution block, naked faced and kneading her knuckles, the stumps where she had no fingers, her wrists. Washing over her like spreading ink, she looked at herself from eyes down.

The soft lavender advancement gave her pause. Only days ago she had been fresh faced and fervent – her form now had changed under her make-up. The softness of teendom was hollowing into cutting angles. Her sinew and bone showed her aggression, battle damage wrapping around all of her forms like barbed wire. And those eyes, those eyes. She leaned into her mirror finally and looked into herself. Any moment she expected a reaction, herself asking what the ******** she is doing and to get her beauty rest – for tomorrow was a new day of the most holy of rituals. But tonight, she certainly would not be following her old rituals.

Tamiya retreated from her ablution block after brushing out her hair, braiding it to at the very least keep it out of her face. Passing through the airy blocks of her hive she paused in the hallway, feeling a stark memory of a backstage draft creeping into her blood. Tamiya wandered inside of her own respiteblock. Out of habit she opened her wardrobe and closet, before settling on the trunk to the side of her recuperacoon. She extracted simple white cotton dress and slipped on her geta.

There was a horrid breeze outside. Currents of chill and warm air brushed past her woefully underdressed arms. She was hardly used to being so lightly dressed, and it was clear that a storm was coming. As Tamiya pushed through the front doors of her hive, she took a last look at the burning sun dipping down like a malevolent yolk, framing royal pink clouds with rings of fire. The stars had begun to ignite in the sky; Tamiya headed for the cellar.  

[Sypon]

“Father?”

There was no reason for the stairs of the cellar to have such give – the hive wasn’t that old, Tamiya thought. She slowly made her way down, feeling the creaking sighs under her sandals. Perhaps the hive was that old. It had been… Sweeps now. So long since the fire, since Old Hemisect. She had no doubt it would never be home to Kabukidad. Had she moved on? Such time wasted, afraid of the flames. In pursuit of a spectre from her childhood, who had given her the last unmarred token from her old home. That confrontation had emerged from that same fire. She couldn’t recall any other feelings about her old home. Cold, creaking, alert for malice. She breathed through her nose, barely a laugh with the recognition that the feeling was similar to what she was perceiving now.

The dark descent came with familiar territory. Shifting shapes from above, clacking against each other, greeted her like an audience of curious spectators. The single gossamer bulbs that lit her way flickered like insects, the buzz from the generator creating a soothing lull after she planted her feet on solid ground. Tamiya sensed a noise that she recognized as the lock of the cellar clicking shut.

“Father.” Tamiya exhaled now through her mouth and nose. She unclenched her fingers from the crescent shaped dents in her palms and stepped into the center of the room.

He had redecorated somewhat. The simple refrigeration units that lined the compact space were recently cleaned, but had been stacked upon each other with little discernible reason. Somewhere along the line, he had moved the display of Faygo, leaving the rainbow of dim white lights to sit against the wall. The lights were pointed up and covered haphazardly in irregular white cloth. Casting flickers of shapeless figures on the wall and up at a pipe that ran lengthways across the width of the room. Scraps of something or other were hanging from the pipe, and at least six pairs of shoes were lined up left-right-left-right against the pipe and the wall. Tamiya wrinkled her nose.

Kabukidad’s privacy curtain was still in place, bisecting the cellar. It was held up by ragged twine that caught the light and seemed to constantly emit dust. The translucent white curtain fluttered. Tamiya held her breath and turned to face it. A mitten gingerly emerged from over the top of the twine, over the curtain. It faced to the left, to the right, settled in a cocked position. “Looking” at the purpleblood.

“Hello, Tamiya.”

“Father.”

Tamiya stood her ground. A prickling sensation drove up from her chest into her throat. She swallowed around it, immediately regretting the action. The mitten was motionless for a moment before sliding back down, the shape of it tracing on the curtain. The room was suddenly lit before Tamiya; the shape of kabukidad blinking into existence behind the curtain. He was sitting – lounging – his form practically unfathomable without knowledge of his anatomy. The silhouette shifted. Two ears and a snout perked up and rose upon his flexible neck, arm twisting with a flick of a wrist in a grotesque flourish.

“Here I am.”

“Stop playing games.”

The tension in Kabukidad’s neck released, head lolling down back into the bulk of his silhouette. He dragged his feet underneath himself, and without warning the light clicked back off. Then the rest of the lights in the cellar flickered. Tamiya’s nostrils flared, and she whirled in time to catch the pattering metal sounds of his padded feet against the metal pipe above her. She gained momentum in her shoulders and trust out a palm. Miraculously, it seemed to graze his skin before her wrist was grasped by the toothy clamp of Kabukidad’s left mitten. Now that her vision had adjusted, she could see the ambiguous form of her lusus clearly.

“No fighting.” Tamiya managed through gritted teeth. The pressure on her arm was crushing. She only exhaled when she was released.

“Look at you, givin’ orders. That’s ********’ rich.” Kabukidad chuckled, a sort of wheeziness to his punctuation. He stalked towards the stairs, walking on his front paws, a leg dragging behind.

“You have gotten fat.”

”And you’re not wearing your make-up. You aren’t speaking the way I taught you. You’re hardly even my daughter.” Kabukidad purred. Tamiya grimaced with distaste as he sat back on the floor, his form sinking down as he settled. He reclined. His paws crossed over each other, head tilted back at Tamiya and neck hole seeping cold smog. ”Tell me what you’re here for. I’m already bored of this.”

Tamiya clutched the neckline of her robe with her hands. Her lips parted, and pushed back together in a move of impudent spite. She had no plan, no practice, but that was not stopping her now. She hardly had a choice, being locked in quite literally.

“What am I to you?” Tamiya asked in measured tones. Kabukidad shifted, hummed. His voices hardly echoed.

”A successful subjugglator, so it seems. Marian seems to think so.”

“What do you think?” Tamiya shook, her hands curling again into fists. Kabukidad laughed and rolled over on his back. The top of his head hit the base of the stairs and lolled into a squashed position staring at the ceiling.

”What does my b***h of a daughter care what I think? The Messiahs’ll will reward me for my effort, even if you throw your talent away. I made you perfectly. You were ********’ poised for it all, and then your rustblooded bucketsponge so easily did you in. Pity. Haha! Haaa, pity. Disgrace.” Kabukidad cackled, hooting and honking at the base of the stairs. His neck crunched up with a few highpitched snaps as he slapped his knees, stomach jiggling from his mirth.

That was what she had expected, and Tamiya was prepared for it. She advanced upon her lusus, forehead hot and stomach roiling. “You ******** piece of s**t. I am powerful now. Entrusted, successful –“

”You’re a shitstain, a smear of wiggler vomit. You think you can make a difference, balance Alternia, ********’ satisfy the living and dead and purify the world? There is only room for the pure of faith in our cathedral, and your blindness to a wench who will slit your throat in your recuperacoon isn’t even that funny of a ******** joke. Your trust is goddamn repulsive, your commitment to lies are telling of your idiocy. There are agents of evil, living and dead, and they’ll cull you without warning or the same sickly sympathy you show and the laziness with which you construct your feeble persona. You only stand a chance because of me, goddamn ********’ b***h.”

Tamiya reeled. Her blood was boiling now, a scream cutting through her. “I do not need you to live my life! You do not know me! You are WRONG!” The pressure in her head was unbearable. Kabukidad’s neck inflated – a thick freezing cloud of white smog filtered out of him. Tamiya’s vision went red.

”We’re very alike, don’t you think? You’ll see. I’ve only ever given you blessings. You’re only cursing yourself.”

”I’ve always protected you. Kept you scared, kept you safe. I would never harm you.”

”How do you think you were able to unleash your innate abilities? Your chucklevoodoos are my mark of success. Fear. Pain. Suffering. Agony. You know them well – weaponize them. No one can hurt you again.”

“You’ll be back when you realize I’m right. You can’t trust anybody.”

“Are you going to kill me? Funny.”

She opened her eyes to her hands pressed nearly together around the neck of her lusus. Her palms were covered in frost, eyes opening in horror as she collected herself. A sound of screaming pealed through the air. Like a teakettle – no, a flock of birds wailing. A wiggler, a grown troll, a howlbeast and the mechanical screech of tires. Kabukidad was making the noise. Suddenly, she wrenched her hands back. The sensation of small bones crackling underneath her vice grip was gag-inducing. She staggered backwards, collapsing to the ground on her rear and put her hands over her eyes. The red haze was lifting – she had just used her chucklevoodoos on her own lusus.

Kabukidad unfolded on the ground, the skin around his neck wrinkled and blackening by the minute. He began to re-inflate weakly, his paws slowly kneading the ground for purchase. He began to laugh.

“I’ve done a very good thing. A very bad thing. Look at you,” He spat. His voices were fewer now. The simple deep whisper that sent Tamiya straight back to her wiggler trials, back to her days in the theatre, had her paralyzed. “You are powerful. You’re an adult now. Something to be reckoned with.”

Tamiya stammered. “Do not look down on me.” Her jaw was setting again. The exhilaration from her attack was diluting her fear.

“Oh, I don’t. You’re a damn monster.” He explained. “You’re stupid enough to be a puppet and stubborn enough to snip your own strings.”

The purpleblood was at a loss. A few steady breaths and she was back to a regular bloodpusher rate, back to calm. Her lusus had begun to rise, dragging himself low-slung on the ground towards his curtain. Whatever she had come here for, she had no idea if she’d gotten it or not. Her mind was a tangled mess of thoughts – pain. Looking after her lusus, slowly inching away, Tamiya clutched at her chest. Her bloodpusher began to race again. Doubt.

“I am – sorry.”

“Don’t ******** apologize.” Kabukidad spat. His front-half had already disappeared under the curtain. “I was wrong, anyway. You haven’t thrown your talent away – yet. I don’t trust you to satisfy me, nor do I care. You don’t want to be the same loving daughter I raised. So at least do your damn job in the cult.”

Tamiya rose to her feet and brushed her hair out of her eyes, whipping her braid behind her shoulders. She turned to go, but a hollow clattering sound caught her attention. Out from under Kabukidad’s curtain rolled something she never thought she’d see again. Tears sprung to her eyes as she reached down to pick up her heavy, heirloom kiseru. It seemed she hadn’t moved on after all.

Hivestuck