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296 lines
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<title>The Homestuck Epilogues: Candy - Chapter 8</title>
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<div id='s8'></div>
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<div>
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<h1>Chapter 8</h1>
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<div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm line-caption line-copy pad-x-0 pad-x-lg pad-b-lg">
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Did you hear that Jane had been intending to
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run for president?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes She In Fact Asked Me To Serve A
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Position In Her Cabinet</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: On The “Board Of Responsible Troll
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Reproduction”</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Oh dear. What did you tell her?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well Not In So Many Words</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: But I Told Her To Kindly Fuck Off</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">Rose arches an eyebrow at her wife, who is
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tending to the Mother Grub. Rose herself is sitting cross-legged on
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an outcropping over the lip of the breeding pit, knitting a series
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of tiny scarves for the grub clones that she and Kanaya have come
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to help hatch.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="rose">ROSE: That bad, huh?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: She Was Already Talking About Regulating
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Troll Reproduction</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: With Great Confidence I Might Add As If
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She Had Already Been Elected</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Very presumptuous of her.</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well I Suppose Her Confidence Was Not
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Unearned</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Who Was Going To Run Against Her</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Karkat?</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">Kanaya laughs to herself, more fond than
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mocking. Rose turns over another row on her scarf with dexterous
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ease, switching the knit pattern without missing a stitch. From
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behind her knitting she watches Kanaya check the shell thickness on
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a batch of eggs. Her wife is luminous in the early morning light,
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her rainbow-drinker skin soaking in the pink light and reflecting
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it back like the inside of a snail’s shell.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="rose">ROSE: I don’t think Karkat would be such a bad
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candidate actually. Depending on certain factors I mean.</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: I’m assuming that in this theoretical
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scenario, Dave is handling the economy.</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Oh Of Course</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Ok. In that case it might have all worked out
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in the end.</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Doubtlessly</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Have Great Faith In Karkat And Always
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Have</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: However I Also Am Not Certain That He
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Could Step Out Of His Hive Without Catching On Fi–</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Swifer Could You Not Swiff The Mother
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Grub So Vigorously</p>
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<p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Oh, sorry ma’am!</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">Swifer Eggmop is Kanaya’s over-eager but
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well-meaning jade-blooded assistant. She talks a little like a
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parody of a 1920s newsboy archetype, which Rose can only theorize
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has to do with Jane’s influence on the culture.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Just tryin’ to get her nice and clean! I
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heard the New Prospit Hornographer’s coming by later to scope out
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some pics!</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">Swifer is at the center of the breeding pit,
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knee-deep in birthing juice as she mops down the Mother Grub’s
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exoskeleton. The parturition of troll grubs is apparently an
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arduous and grisly task, one that has stained the Mother Grub’s
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shimmering white exoskeleton rainbow-dark with various
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secretions.</p>
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<p>Rose takes a moment to feel grateful that her current
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relationship alignment leaves no chance for her to ever be “human
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pregnant.” Not that she has any particular distaste for motherhood.
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It might be nice to adopt a little troll grub once the whole ball
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on natural production gets rolling.</p>
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<p>Swifer adjusts the rate of her swiffing to a more acceptable
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level of vigor. She shines up the last of the segment she’s working
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on, then twirls the mop over her wrist with a martial flourish that
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absolutely recalls the fact that she is from a natural-born warrior
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species. She then gets to work washing the Mother Grub’s horns.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="rose">ROSE: What’s this about the Hornographer?</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Since when has the press taken in interest in
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our activities down here?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Oh Yes You Were Busy Dying When I Set All
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Of That Up</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: The Mother Grub Is Mature Enough This
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Year To Process Inseminated Slurry For The First Time In Our
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History</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: If The Government Gives Us The Go Ahead
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We Can Begin Breeding Trolls The Natural Way Next Month</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Arranged The Newspaper Story
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When...</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: When Jane asked you to sit on the “Board for
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Responsible Troll Reproduction”?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes The First Thing I Did Immediately
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After Screaming Into A Pillow Was To Call My Acquaintance At The
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Paper</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Now That She Isnt Running It Doesnt Seem
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Very Important However</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Actually Im Not Terribly Interested In
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Politics At All</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Without Anger Motivating Me I Began To
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Think About How Its Probably Very Irresponsible For Any Of Us To
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Use Our Influence In Such A Way</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: I agree. In fact, I’d just assumed that most
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of us had arrived at such a conclusion.</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Not Jane Apparently</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Or Dave, I’m sorry to say.</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">There’s a third member of their social group
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who definitely hasn’t arrived at the conclusion that his power and
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influence should be meted out responsibly either. Neither of them
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speak his name, however. For some reason, it feels like a shadow
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passing over the sun. A brief spike of pain flickers through Rose’s
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head, a bolt that strikes between her eyes and splinters out. There
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is color and light behind it. A vision that tears through the
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material reality in front of her and gives her a brief glimpse into
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a parallel reality where things are very different.</p>
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<p>It’s gone as soon as she notices it. The image never
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materializes. She ties off the last row of her scarf and unwinds
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her knitting needles from the wool, a serene smile tugging at her
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lips. Since waking up in the hospital, she has stopped worrying
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altogether about what might be happening in splintered timelines.
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She has stopped worrying, in fact, about almost anything at all. A
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pleasant breeze rustles through her hair, carrying the sweet scent
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of early spring from the mouth of the chasm. Rose closes her eyes
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for a moment and breathes it in: taken just one minute at a time, a
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day can be filled with hundreds of perfect moments.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well Whatever Inconvenient Party Ruining
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Opinions Dave and Jane Might Have About The Economic Future Of Our
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Planet Its All In The Past</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Have A Very Good Feeling About Where
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Things Are Going Now</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: I see. So are you the Seer now?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: No</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: But I Can Make Predictions Based On
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Existing Evidence</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And If I Can Spend Every Day Like This
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Doing The Work That I Was Born To Do With The Person I Am Most Fond
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Of In The World By My Side</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Believe That I Can Handle Anything</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Hmm... Did you really use dialogue like that
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to win my heart, or are we getting complacent and incredibly uncool
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in our old age?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: I Convinced You To Marry Me I Dont Think
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That I Am Obligated To Be Cool Anymore</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Kanaya, you’re the “coolest chick” I
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know.</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: What</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Are You Doing With Your Hands</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Oh, you know. Just one of these...</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Please Dont Tell Me Youre Attempting To
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Do The Strider Thing</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: That Thing He Does Where He Pretends To
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Operate An Invisible Record Player</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: B)</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: God</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Who’s the cool one now?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Well</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: It Sure Isnt You</p>
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<p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Ma’am and Ma’am’s wife! Bank’s closed,
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ladies!</p>
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<p class="kanaya">SWIFER: The first egg is hatchin’ already!</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">Kanaya twirls on her heel, skin flickering
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bright as she lifts her skirt and jumps into the breeding pit. Rose
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sets down her needles and follows, walking along the edge of the
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pit to the place closest to the eggs. She crouches to watch the
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miracle of life begin.</p>
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<p>She’s never taken the time to come down here before and see the
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grubs hatch. Probably because she’s been too busy diminishing
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melodramatically on the couch to take an active interest in her
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wife’s life calling. The grub is already chewing through the chitin
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eggshell with all its little legs moving sinuously in offbeat
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concert.</p>
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<p>Swifer is sniffling. She makes the motion of wiping away a tear,
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somewhat cartoonishly.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="kanaya">SWIFER: Golly gee oh my. This part always makes
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me tear up.</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">Kanaya dips down to help the grub out of the
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shell. Her skirt trails through a puddle of birthing jelly, but she
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doesn’t seem to care. There’s an awed expression lighting up her
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face, in addition to the literal light emanating from her skin. She
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tears away the last chunk of the shell. It’s mottled and rough,
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like a rock on the outside, but has a layer beneath like mulched
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flesh. Kanaya’s hands are soaked blue with bloody yolk when she
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finally lifts the grub and holds it up to the light.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Rose Look</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">Rose looks. All troll grubs appear kind of
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samey, but this one has a familiar look about her. Asymmetric
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horns, one crescent, the other harpoon-like. A mussed mane of hair
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and a mischievous glint in her beady little eyes. Particularly the
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one with seven pupils.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="rose">ROSE: ...</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Vriska?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Pretty Close</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: A Reasonable Genetic Approximation</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: This Brood Has Been Utilizing A Slurry
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Consisting Of Genes From Our Original Group Of Twelve Trolls</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Mostly This Results In Unique
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Individuals</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: But Sometimes Very Close Copies Occur</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: As With The case Of Ancestral
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Descendancy</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: So... Vriska would be this troll’s
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ancestor?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Yes</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Wow.</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Rose I Think This Is A Sign</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: A sign of what?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Havent We Been Talking About Adopting A
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Grub</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Eventually, yes. But a natural-born grub.
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Don’t you think it will be somewhat... awkward, us raising a clone
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of your sort-of ex?</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: What happens when Vriska comes back? What do
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we say to her?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Rose Vriska Is Dead So It Doesnt Really
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Matter</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Is she dead, though?</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: Absolutely</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: There Are Two Things Of Which I Have No
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Doubt</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: That You And I Are Going To Be Happy For
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The Rest Of Our Lives</p>
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<p class="kanaya">KANAYA: And That We Are Never Ever Going To See
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Vriska Again</p>
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</div>
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<p class="no-indent">Baby-Vriska wiggles her six talons. Kanaya
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cradles the little grub against her chest and pokes it in the nose.
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The grub reacts by blowing a bubble of bright cerulean yolk
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membrane out from between its lips. To her own surprise, the sight
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melts Rose’s heart in an instant. The emotion that hits her feels
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like one of her old visions. Suddenly she can see her and Kanaya’s
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future so clearly, like a map rolled out at her feet and stretching
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far into the horizon. Kanaya is right. Vriska is dead, and despite
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everything, she died a hero. Vriska was a complicated figure of
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contrasting extremes; her heroic actions were matched in scale only
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by her monstrous ones, and since no one had actually witnessed her
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end, it was impossible to say which side the pendulum swung and
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judged her death—Heroic or Just.</p>
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<p>It would be a fitting memorial for her and Kanaya to raise a
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version of Vriska who would be given every chance to make good on
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her noble characteristics. A true, symbolic redemption arc.
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Something about the thought appeals to Rose’s taste for the
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dramatic flourish. It would be proof that this was all worth it in
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the end: the destruction of multiple universes, the death of
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Kanaya’s friends, the circuitous rites of suffering experienced by
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the nearly infinite splintered versions of every being to inhabit
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Paradox Space...</p>
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<p>Rose loves her wife fiercely in this moment. The new Mother of
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her species, framed in a literal halo of light. She can’t contain
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her excitement. She leaps into the pit with Kanaya and runs to
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embrace her, not caring about the irreversible rainbow-colored
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stains that she’s smearing into her dress.</p>
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<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
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<p class="rose">ROSE: Oh Kanaya, you’re right.</p>
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<p class="rose">ROSE: We are going to be so astonishingly
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happy!</p>
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
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</body>
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