[OPEN]

[carnagecarnival]

Who| The Initiate and YOU

What| An aspiring preacher goes to make some noise

Where| The Training Center

When| Before the party

Warnings/Notes| Swearing all over. General awfulness.

Already he is weary of their pomp and pride, all these aliens swilling about him like they own him, like a bunch of sea-dwellers thinking injudiciously that he is not well above them in all sense of the greater workings. He snarls at the pecking and plucking, snapping his jaws at any who try to touch the paint of his face. He hopes he makes it very clear that if they remove his paint he will replace it's lack through leak of their veins. He has a feeling that they're just a bit too thick to understand. He mourns for his voodoo again and again, feeling somewhat stifled and lost without it in his reach. At least, he thinks upon hearing of the upcoming death-match, there are ways to keep himself busy.

He heads for the Center, leaving shredded bits of clothing and shoes behind in a bread crumb trail for the sorry fucks to find. By the time he gets there, his new tunic is bare of sleeves, the bottoms of his pants are torn, used to create a makeshift armband at each wrist, and his large clawed feet are bare. He's voodoo-less, weapon-less, and though he's just recently grown taller than even true adults, there may always be someone bigger and even a small troll--alien-- could be dangerous. He weighs entering the center with quiet subtlety but decides that, no, he is annoyed, antsy, and teetering on the high wire line of boredom, and that will not motherfucking do.

Cliche or motherfucking not, nothing quite feels like kicking a door open and walking in with your head held high. He gives a grin and offers his best ring-master's bow.

He says, loud enough for those nearby him to hear, "Mirthful believers, FAITHLESS FUCKS; Who can lead a Messiah blessed to find holiest armament? OR SHALL CARNIVAL COME WITHOUT A CLUB'S BLESSINGS?"

Always good to weed out the worthy from heretics early on, he thinks, already amused. He doesn't actually expect help. He heads for the weapons without waiting for response. 

Comments

[sleeplessinalternia]

Karkat had been running himself through the classic sickle forms, as laid down by Troll Nijinsky, when the door was kicked in. The familiar-sounding voice and the sight of the highblood--for there's no mistaking the new troll's caste, not with his size and way of speaking and especially not with that arrogance--causes Karkat to drop his sickles in shock.

"Gamzee?" he breathes. "What the fuck happened to you?"

He may have put on a couple sweeps of growth and he no longer has the sickly sweet smell of sopor on him, but this new highblood troll looks exactly like Karkat's dumb clown of a best friend.

[carnagecarnival]

Karkat isn't the only hit with recognition. There's a split second of sick surprise, followed by confusion, and then a furious snarl has taken the place of both. He is growling audibly as he advances, stalking close with purpose.

"And the piss poorest of jokes shows face in a carnival warped, how MOTHERFUCKING PRUDENT OF HE," growls. "To take in motherfucking sail, the god of bounds. WHO SETS TO SEAS A SHORE. Come to me in his fatal rounds. LIKE THE STUPID SORRY SINNERFUCK HE IS."

He grips Karkat's shirt front and hauls him off his feet. He hisses through his teeth, "Give me reason not rend you asunder now, Jokevein. Perhaps he will save your ticket if weaved motherfucking excuse proves worthy E-FUCKING-NOUGH.

[sleeplessinalternia]

Oh god. Oh fuck. Gamzee's off the sopor and he's become the psychotic killing machine his bloodline had always destined him to be and Karkat may very well die this moment. "Look," he says. "I didn't know the demon would show up, you have to believe me! And I didn't know these capitol humans were going to steal us and please, Gamzee, don't cull me, it's me, Karkat, I'm your friend, your best friend, you even said I was, fuck, please don't cull me."

[carnagecarnival]

"The motherfuck is Gamzee?" he asks, then drops him. He scoffs, "Like fuck you are. LIKE FUCK YOU CALL YOURSELF FRIEND IN HONEST WORD. You wouldn't know at how." He looks down at him like he might a particularly irritating insect-- not much of a stretch considering technically trolls were insects. The Initiate looks Karkat over once, then again. He's the same; it's the same damn horns, the same face, same useless tooth and maw, same voice. A small stunted half-troll. He may even bleed the same sickly hue.

"Tell again your name," he says. "SPEAK IT FUCKING FULL AND CLEAR."

[sleeplessinalternia]

"Karkat," he says, shaking, fucking trembling, like fucking arboreal foliage. "Karkat Vantas. I thought--I thought you were Gamzee Makara. He's-- we're friends, we've been friends for sweeps, we were playing a game together before I got snatched here--and you look just like him. Taller, different paint, but same horns, same face. Who are you?"

Considering what he found out about Signless, he has a terrible feeling he can guess.

[carnagecarnival]

"THIEF OF FACE AND TONGUES THEN, YOU BOTH ARE?" He sneers. His anger wanes just slightly with Karkat's cowering. Good, he thinks, He ought to feared. The troll should fear him. He straightens his back, lifting his chin higher, all while looking down already, then says, "The Initiate, Fraysong. Mirthful follower of the Messiah's holy scripture and motherfucking Subjugglator for the empire's writ and call."

Even with his enormous height, if one looked carefully enough, they would see he was a child; a much older one, yes, past 7 sweeps, but not an adult. And, in the world of a troll, he was certainly still a child enough for it to be odd for him to boast a title. Still, he speaks it with enough certainty that there can be no room to argue that the title is anything but real.

[69problems]

This is what he gets for getting distracted at the fire-starting station. He'd heard the Initiate enter but he hadn't seen him, and now, striding quickly across the training center, he wishes he had. He knows this troll, even if like the Psiioniic he's all wrong in the way he looks.

He puts a comforting arm around Karkat's shoulders -- whether Karkat wants that or not -- and very deliberately asks,

"Has he done something wrong?"

[sleeplessinalternia]

Karkat is in fact super fucking embarrassed by that arm on his shoulder, but he doesn't shove it off, which is probably what counts.

Thanks a lot, Signless.

[carnagecarnival]

He starts at the other troll's arrival, stepping back even, as disbelief twists his features. Again he is hit with that sick wave of recognition. They're both the wrong age, the wriggler too young, and this one, perhaps older than he, but this one he knows immediately is the right one. He hasn't seen him in a sweep, hasn't spoken to him since far longer. If even had cared before then who heard him, he wouldn't now; he roars loud and guttural in their faces, channelling sweeps of anger safely kept, sweeps more of not having done this very thing in the first place. He bares his fangs, as the gold of sclera go steadily deeper orange.

"HE IS A LARCENER, THEIVING PERFECT MOTHERFUCKING LIKENESS OF A TREASONOUS IMPIOUS BLASHPEMER," The Initiate snarls, a heavy growl rumbling over his words. "Culpable for crimes of illegal fucking status WHAT HE SHARES WITH MOTHERFUCKING YOU! How you fucking dare. HOW MOTHERFUCKING PAN-SHATTERED YOU BOTH DARE TO BE TO RUN AND STOP BEFORE HIM EVER IN ABODE THAT IS NOT THE FUCKING GALLOWS WHILST STANDING AND PRAYING IN REPENTANCE! How you fucking dare to let your heathen tongue preform speech on to me."

[69problems]

The Signless doesn't immediately answer. Instead, he reaches up with the hand not around Karkat and very delicately wipes a fleck of indigo spit from his cheek.

"So he didn't do anything at all," he says, just a little petulantly, "but exist in your presence."

This Highblood is old enough to have begun to hate him, then (he still doesn't understand how this all works, but thanks to Damara he knows not to try to understand time shenanigans). He'd had a brief, shining hope that maybe he could salvage what they'd begun to have all those sweeps ago. Perhaps they still can, but not right now. The Highblood needs to have his tantrum first.

[sleeplessinalternia]

"Signless," Karkat mutters between clenched fangs, "drop it and let's get the fuck out of here."

Why is his ancestor so dumb?

[carnagecarnival]

Karkat's words catch his attention, and he sneers at the elder troll, "SIGNLESS? THAT YOUR MOTHERFUCKING TITLE NOW? Should listen to the wriggler. IT'S WHAT YOU DO AIN'T IT? Skitter and scamper the fuck away, running and running and motherfucking RUNNING. LIKE SQUEAKBEASTS UNDER SLAUGHTER, FUCKING RIGHT OFF. He wonders though if you even have place to run? TRADED ONE DEATH GAME FOR ANOTHER BUT THIS ONE'S GOT WALLS."

[69problems]

Signless's eyes narrow further. He is not going to just 'drop it'. He's a Vantas, he is bad at just 'dropping it'.

"I run because I don't believe that everything must be achieved through excessive displays of brute force." The implication there is clear.

[sleeplessinalternia]

"Signless," Karkat hisses under his breath, "he's a fucking subjuggulator. Let's shut the fuck up and leave." He tugs on the older troll's arm.

[carnagecarnival]

As a Makara, he is, of course, even worse for 'dropping it'.

He snarls at the Signless,"Of course the sinner spills ever fucking more. WHAT WOULD A JOKE EVEN KNOW OF IT? I live because of it. AND CONTINUE TO FUCKING LIVE I WILL. I will not lie in the face of the messiahs to say I take nothing of it. HAVE ONLY EVER BEEN MOTHERFUCKING TRUE. Only at truth in my own motherfucking self i have been. MORE than i could fucking say ON YOU."

His glares drops to karkat, in all his discomfort, and goes back to the Signless. "Wriggler's yours ain't he? DIDN'T FIGURE AT YOU'D MEET A MOTHERFUCKING DRONE AND LIVE. He's asking of you Signless. AND MOTHERFUCKING RIGHT HE IS."