When you were young you were the king of carrot flowers

[carnagecarnival]

Who| Initiate, Gamzee, Kurloz, and the old goat! OPEN TO ALL!!

What| Bad raps, bad food choices, bad habits, bad people, brooding. Come meet the Makaras!

Where| All over the tribute tower, the commons, D5, and outside

When| Thicker Than Blood week!

Warnings/Notes|  Swears and slurs. Drug references. Past abuse/neglect implied. Atrocities done in the name of rap and miracles. Body modification / self harm / mouth stitching. Creepy awful people with Problems.

[Multiple prompts below in comments. Be sure to specify if you want one or another or all in prompts with multiple characters.]

Comments

[Gamzee] In the halls

[carnagecarnival]

He's got his believings hashed and gone turned all the fuck over and what he's believing now is that he ain't even knowing what all this is to be. He's got schoolfed all up on all manner of malefaction and miracle. Dream? Real? Why not both? He ain't think that's so out of reach it be star danced. Whatever this all is, he's okay with going on with the motherfucking flow of it. This place is beautiful and his Da is here and he's got all sort of motherfuckers getting talk on at him, one's what is being real nice too. There's the scary looking motherfuckers what all look like him all at the same time getting their look on out after him. He only finds himself wishing he could be dreaming his husktop down into here too. He'd tell everyone all about, his Best friend, Tavros, Equius, Terezi... They couldn't even be believing what dreams he's having now, he's sure, but he can't even think not to be sharing this miracle with them. He knows that dreams get their end whenever all they get their end up and on, but he wouldn't mind maybe staying in this one a bit more.

Da is asleep so the one biggest, scariest one what all be of him has said he's got at to be showing them all around or some shit. Gamzee is down for that. He spaces out sometimes, gets on slamming accidental over the brother's words cause his own just got flowing unmeaning to, and some part just slip on away, the way the mystics always up and do, but what he does see and hear gets to seeming good.

His attentions get skewed slipways like a motherfucker getting cracked up on the head, and he turns left when all the other two go right. This whole place shines like some kind of illicit shangri-la. He follows them glimmers down the hall, walking slow so as to take it all in. His smile is wide up on his face, both in paint and real. Just how he likes it to be.

Re: [Gamzee] In the halls

[sleeplessinalternia]

Oh.

Oh fuck.

It isn't.

It can't be.

"Gamzee," Karkat breathes.

It's his stupid, ridiculous, pan-cracked moirail. Here. In Panem. Karkat would know that dopey grin anywhere. He hadn't seen enough of it on the meteor.

"Holy fuck, Gamzee, what the shit are you doing here?"

Re: [Gamzee] In the halls

[carnagecarnival]

He ain't never seen this motherfucker up in person before. He had grey words and a shining screen what all to get gander on at in them dark nights. Maybe pictures got being sent once at some time he can't get about recalling. Maybe they didn't.

But a brother knows his Best motherfucking friend. He's to be hearing them sweet expletives, spoken up in a voice that's real angry but a whole lot more than all that too, and seeing this tiny little nubby brother come on at him what's making that wicked noise? A brother knows.

"Best friend?" Besides, he's got that good feeling there. That special one. He walks on over to Karkat, saying, "Whoa motherfucker! Check out these motherfucking shitbit hapenstances getting up at to subsistence. I was just thinking at of you and here you be! Like a miracle."

one clown goin' down

[pythianjudgment]

Things are not quite so magical for one, Terezi Pyrope. She's been subjected to both Vriska and her dead dragon in one 24 hour period. She's not sure how many more surprises she can handle. The surprise fairy can fuck right off as far as she's concerned.

And then she smells that familiar scent, and she almost turns right around in the other direction. Blackberries and grease paint; and she's not okay, she's not doing this right now. But she falters in her retreat, noticing the way he walks aimlessly down the halls. That's not Fraysong.

Terezi freezes--appropriately because everything in her runs cold. It's still a Makara, but it's not Kurloz. It's Gamzee.

Her fingers curl, and suddenly everything spins from cold to hot. Blood boiling and blind gaze burning. Of course he would be here. So doesn't doubt who he's here for, but that person isn't around right now. Like a beast on the hunt, Terezi stalks forward. She doesn't even give a greeting before she's grabbing the collar of Gamzee's shirt and slamming him up against the wall--a difficult motion for someone significantly shorter than him. But she manages.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asks, her voice like stone.

[mortal combat voice] FINISH HIM

[carnagecarnival]

The motion isn't easy, but being steering Gamzee should be a piece of cake with how he doesn't fight a bit. She slams him right up against the wall and he elicits a honk of surprise. It hurts his back a little but not so much enough to pierce the haze. His hands fly up, defensive.

"Motherfuck, I ain't weren't going no ways particulars, I was just looking, that's all!" He says, getting them words going fastlike they was being motherfuckers trying to run on before sunrise. And then he looks at her real close, seeing them snazzy-ass red ocular windows over burnt out see-spheres, funny little dots all over her what is being face what he could be thinking to play connect the dots with.

"Whoa wait." He remembers the picture of her now. "Terezi?" He smiles then, relaxing totally. "Shiiiit, sis, when did you get your bad self up ins this wicked business what be here?"

[Kurloz] Around the tower

[carnagecarnival]

The avoxes interest him before he even knows what they are. In a moment where his brothers of the carnival have evaded him, he takes to exploring. He notices the workers moving about and wonders of their status. Human highbloods seeking keep the place in perfect embodiment of the hospitality they wish to extend for their varied and many charges? The low merely doing work as work is to be? He doubts either as he observes them more. Servants, they seem to be. Such mysteries have been delivered unto him. He wants their attention. He picks up a small decorative bit of statue, turning it over in his hands, then, just like that, it slips from his fingers, shattering on the floor at his feet. The closest servant lifts their head. Kurloz looks back at him with an expression of total innocence. He sees their eyes meet his for a second, dropping down just as fast, before coming up again as it registers. He sees the shock barely hidden as they look over his stitches. He smiles and the threads pull.

They walk stiffly forward, going to clean up the mess he's made and he in turn observes the hollowness of their cheeks and all those little familiar habits and signs. He kneels down to their level and he helps them pick the glass up off the floor, still smiling, still watching, as the avox panics. He watches them as they go, slipping this new revelation inside where it is safe.

When they are gone, he turns. He rather feels like a smoke, he decides. Surely someone around here, perhaps any person watching, might have some nip and a light to offer. His heels click along the ground as he walks, arms held neatly behind his back until he reaches a potential supplier.

[Kurloz] Around the tower

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

She could be anyone from the back, gilded horn tips peeking over a lion's worth of hair, done up in layers that spread out like a mane. She isn't, once she half turns, gray arms sheathed in transparent green fabric. Not in the usual leathers and furs, they've found some inspiration in her lusus and layers of pale spring green linen fall in clean lines under her hair. When she turns, there's gems and gold at her ears, her arms, her neck, and a gold leash is wrapped around her hand.

Beyond her is what might have been mistaken for a furry white couch but is more obviously a white lion, two tails flicking and eyes narrowed to silent slits at his approach. A muzzle traps any roar and it looks like the pair of them were waiting for something. Perhaps permission to go outside, since they seem to be near the door.

"Can I help y..." She stops and blinks, unsure of what she's seeing, "...Are you um--are you new?"

Re: [Kurloz] Around the tower

[carnagecarnival]

Look for nip and find the cat. Kurloz's face lights up as he forgets all of what he was originally searching for. He would sing his praises to the Lord, if only he could. She's beautiful, a true mother fuckin glory for his sinner's gaze to behold, as she ever is, his wicked kittybitch. Even where she is different. For she is most surely different. She speaks soft too, where his Meulin speaks her parables so they may so then ring.

No matter.

With great flourish he bows low. He sinks then to a knee, a hand over his heart, then gesturing up to her. He rises back to his feet and begins to move his hands about in frantic gestures. Would she know the language that had been made between them? He shall find out.

[privilegecheck]

Porrim being here was surprise enough, for Kankri. While this isn't such a blow to him, it still makes him ache to see more of the people he knows, the trolls who are his only friends, brought to this place. Have the Gamemakers decided they're tired of Alternians, and would rather see more of his Beforan comrades struggle through the Games instead?

Still, there's an awful, sick sort of relief, too. He and Kurloz have never been particularly close, but after clinging on to the Kurloz here as a shattered image of the familiar, seeing his own version, someone he doesn't have to think quite as much about how he's coming across with - it's a bit of weight off his mind.

"Kurloz!" He waves, jogs over. He doesn't hug Kurloz, he's not the hugging type with people he's not very close to, but he does bring a hand up to clasp and squeeze his shoulder, more physical affection than he might have shown back in their session. "I won't say I'm glad to see you in a place like this, but I am glad to see you well, at least."

[carnagecarnival]

Back when he had a voice and a tongue, he might've welcomed and delighted at such a gesture, especially from one so against contact. Perhaps he'd have even hugged back. As it is, he raises brows and keeps his arms back behind him. He gives a curious look.

Ain't that so unlike you, Seer of Blood. He hadn't realised this brother to be here and yet there he stands. That makes-- hmm-- three of their circle as they were. So far, anyway. He does so wonder what the Lord's intentions are with this.

He gestures with a twirl of his hand towards Kankri, smiling pleasently in response to Kankri's comment of seeing him well. Afraid he won't be saying he's glad to see you either, Kankri. He snorts lightly at his own personal joke.

[deafscythe]

Justin has no one. They brought no one for him. There is no one in the universe that the Capitol thought they could use against him. It shouldn't sting as much as it does.

He has his music in, as always, headphones pumping an endless stream of noise directly into his skull, vibrating into his bones. Justin's on his way to the main lobby, and from there to outside. If he gets outside, he might be able to escape some of the attention that the visitors have brought. ]

Even though there's no one here for him, the stylists have decided to spend time dressing him today, bleaching his hair paler blond, covering his skin in nearly white powder, dragging glitter across his eyelids and cheekbones, gluing on fake pale eyelashes. He's dressed in grey, just slightly darker than pure white, a suit with a long, capelike jacket. Everything about him is white, except for the blue of his eyes, and the red leather collar around his neck like a gaping wound.

I got to use the annoyed icon im so happy

[carnagecarnival]

Kurloz hasn't been around so many people since he was younger. They bustle about their business, heedless to the grand workings. Sinners. He gets the attention he wants, when he wants it, but he is just as good at slipping into the background, fading with the shadows. He makes his way outside; dual purpose of a momentary want to be away along with the fact that, as he recalls, those with smokes that could be shared stuck to the outsides where the fumes could evaporate up into the atmosphere. It means he won't getting anything that good but it might get him something.

He spots a figure, lusus-white but probably not a lusus. He snaps his figures to get the boy's attention. Nothing. He snaps them again. This, of all things, is the first to prompt a frown from him. He presses his lips into a line and walks over-- making more noise than fully necessary with his heels. He puts himself in front of justin, waving a hand.

[heavysweating]

Equius isn't exploring too far, he isn't sure how far he's allowed to go. But he definitely sees a troll pass by. He recognizes the horns first, but it's the face paint that gets his attention. There's a highblooded troll here. He can't help but shiver, although the reason why might not be bad.

So instead of being normal and reasonable he decides to follow this stranger to see where he's going.

[carnagecarnival]

The sound of his own heels are echoed by the click of cleats. He won't attest to being unnerved. He's followed people before for what he's had to do, he's enjoyed the way how all people spook when they merely see him and his smile. But to follow him? His lips press in a line and his eyes narrow. He slows down. He turns, peering over his own shoulder behind him. Then he stops.

Horuss? Horuss was here?

No. Horuss was different. Horuss had never been so foolish as to break off a horn, mother fuck, that must've hurt. Its the same face, but all done different. The troll must be as Gamzee is to him. Or his alternate.

He turns his whole self around now, tilting his head curiously at this new troll.

[Gamzee] In the commons

[carnagecarnival]

Goddamn. God motherfucking damn. There is a whole lot of motherfucking motherfuckers what all is being around. Crazy ass looking aliens and monsters, lots being adults even and ain't that just enough to drop a motherfucker's guts down like someone popped a brother open like a fresh motherfucking bottle. The sorta shit what he is only to be seeing when all he's dreaming. Which at they said all he is, and of course he's gotta get on believing them dream aliens. He just weren't think he could dream none all of shit what be this motherfucking stunning. His pumpbiscuit's doing some wild motherfucking acrobatics up within his tumblecage. He wanders on into the middle of that common area there and breathes reeeaaaal deep. It starts off as a mutter, and gets on growing. It builds all the fuck up like a cake baked nicelike and rising, and in his mind he hears a beat thrown to his rhyming.

"Right hue, light through, shatter color spite crew,
What i'm being, lines thrown in the fuckin mind to,
Hook up in no gills, go and pull at for divine news,
Spilling bag of thrills, asking if you has the right clues,
Like this motherfucker's getting heart as to believe,
We be finding all the miracles what is being in our dreams,
At the seams, where it seems, in the lack of self esteems,
Where the colors get on bright and the noises ain't just screams,
And you watch this, you watch me, you watch this beat keep going,
Like the ocean on the shore, like the hemo what is flowing,
And the knowing, the way all the stardust glitters down,
And the way this motherfucker's making smiles out of frowns,
Got the wishings, the wantings, but this a different set up,
Up before me is a miracle what all I got to revel,
Making deals with a demoness to get up to this level,
But if you hearing what I speak, then I tell you this bedevil,
Hearing vastest of the honks, it's the weeping of the ready,
Getting up atop the edge, got the wheel moving steady,
Get a hear on to my medly, singing hymn upon the deadly,
But there ain't illumination at what's being known already,
Scary motherfuckers grinning but I'm all at to see,
No, there ain't none all to fear when the scary's up in me. "

He ain't even seeing if no one's looking. He's got a good feeling up in him and that feeling's all coming out through the words. "Honk."

Re: [Gamzee] In the commons

[tis_allgood]

Cuthbert listens quietly to this... poem? Song? Who could be sure. But he's befriended more than a few trolls so far and regardless of the odd nature of this one, he's certain they will be good friends as well. But he loses a bit of his cool when he hears the 'honk'.

"Cry your pardon, but did you just say 'honk'?"

Re: [Gamzee] In the commons

[carnagecarnival]

Oh. There's someone what all has got his listen on. He faces this new person, looking surprised at first, a curious contrast to his painted on smile, as he processes through what was said nice and easy. Then, Gamzee beams and laughs.

"Honk. Sure motherfucking did, motherfucker," He says, calm. "So uh... why is the pardonings getting their motherfucking sadness rivers all streaming?"

[Kurloz & Gamzee] In district 5

[carnagecarnival]

Gamzee Makara flits about beside him. He knows who Gamzee is; not just a descendant as his duplicate said, but for his time, his ancestor. Gamzee is six sweeps old here; dazed and distractable. Kurloz watches him close, like any second, any mother fuckin moment, holy revelation will strike this troll the way it did him in that age. He doesn't let impatience take him, it will be so much more glorious when it comes in its own time, as he knows it must. As it is, Gamzee does not yet seem to have realised that this is not at all a dream-- he would know, of course-- while being higher than Beforan moon-- which he would also know-- but it brings about a perfect opportunity to familiarize himself to his ancestor-descendant and prepare this future servant to the lord for that which is destined to come.

He does this, naturally, by engaging in the time honored tradition satiating the munchies together. (If only Meulin were here, it would be all the better.)

He's got a blending device already brought out, the Laughing Lord be praised, and he's found himself a variety of whimsically shaped colorful straws. Into the blender he's tossed tasteless "fruit" goop, something written in both Beforan and this world's language that he didn't bother to read, straight up sugar, crumbled cookies, ice cream, and now he holds up a bag of gummy grubs, gesturing with the free hand and tilting his head. Gamzee lifts his with a "huh?" then after a long pause, "Motherfuuuck, what sweet solicitations be all wanting to get greet up with that mirthful motherfucking mess?" He grins. "If it's all being what you is feeling you gotta be doing it brother!" Kurloz decides to take the naming of "brother" as a sign all is going well. He tries again to engage his ancestor-descendant through the holy fear, but it is out of reach. Just as well, his eagerness to appeal might take over, and then where would he be?

He dangles a gummy grub over the open blender, and on Gamzee's laugh, he drops it in. Kurloz adds in yet another and then all that's left to do is to put that wicked bitch on mother fuckin purée, Gamzee watches it all spin round until it stops. He pours the confectionery abomination into a glass, slips a crazy straw in there, and fits the other end of the straw in the space between the threads keeping his lips shut. He wonders if Gamzee might ask again if it hurts then fumble over himself remembering he can't speak and forgetting Kurloz can still decently communicate. Gamzee doesn't this time, but Kurloz still looks at him expectantly until Gamzee goes, "Oh! Shit, bro, my ass got on forgetfulness done up lamentable all in what elusive news be of me. My motherfucking bad." Referring to the demand by his unkempt duplicate that they feed themselves 'or whatever the fuck all they did', with a glance at his stitches that Kurloz duly smiled wider for. Gamzee picks himself up and lopes slowly on over to find himself something or other, jumping up at any sudden noise with an exclamatory honk, then laughing at himself for it and continuing.

Kurloz stares intently and entirely unapologetic at any and all of those passing through district five, folding one leg over the other, and slurping up the miracle smoothie he's created, as Gamzee starts to prepare what seems to be a pie from scratch, covering himself in flour.

[earthborn]

Shepard came in from the elevator's corridor, still feeling the steam from this morning's workout. Rare was the day she didn't get up and go for a run, lift weights, or hit the practice ring, even before she'd taken on the burden of morning lessons for a few of the 'weak links'.

Moreso now, then.

It's what she sees sitting at the innocuous little table in the D5 kitchen that makes her stop dead, and stare. At Kurloz— or...him and smaller Kurloz? Wait, what the hell?

"Uh..." He was covered in flour and toothsome grins, "There's... three, now?"

[carnagecarnival]

It's pretty clear from the look on her face that she recognizes him. Or rather his alternate and them. Kurloz smiles wider, as if amused, thread pulling as he does so. He gives two thumbs up and a nod.

As Gamzee trips and stumbles, trying to recover from his startled honk at her arrival. He readjusts himself, laughing, then looks up at her too.

"Huh?" He starts. Then, "Oh! Yeah! Shit's crazy all like as to be that ain't it? Who all would've up and had thinkwonders up in pan? Not this motherfucker that's for sure, haha." He's got himself a pie half made now. Just a bit more to do and then slamming it in ovenbound. He's in no rush.

"I'm Gamzee!" He introduces. He points. "That there is Kurloz. What's your name, sister? Your face looks pretty. How's it even to be doing that all them little light up inside like motherfucking twelfth perigees. Miracles."

[Initiate, Gamzee, Kurloz, The Seagoat] Late night outside the tribute tower

[carnagecarnival]

The old goat is miserable. Bored. Hungry with only small, already culled fish to eat, and no beasts great as him or other trolls to chomp down on. The old goat feels trapped, wanting bigger space but not wanting to lower himself to dragging his sodden self onto land. The Initiate can tell all this, and unsympathetically, he thinks, as he motherfucking should feel. Feel as all that he motherfucking should. He's a little surprised his Da hasn't tried to break for it anyway, he can move just as well on land as in water, could tear right through the city and crush everyone who got under his hooves. Maybe someone somehow made it clear to the goat that he'd be tranquillized, brought down and culled. Maybe those fish the Capitol have been supplying are drugged.

He doesn't leave the goat, and the other two are not to leave him. It's why the three of them are settled on the back of his tired, half-submerged Da. His alter lays near the tail, body spread straight and hands folded over his chest, a false sense of peace, and the Initiate doesn't think he's truly asleep at all. Just pretending.

His alter takes to Capitol whims with glee. He waves to people, bows to them. He lets them dress him up with enthusiasm. He's reminded of capitolites, seadwellers. He can't care what his alter wears-- right now, a thing of feathers and bones, invoking demons and angels-- but that he just lets the Capitol do as it wills, that bothers him. They're alternates of the same person. Not just that, but this is himself as he was, a living embodiment of an unknown past. And yet he feels like a stranger. He remembers too, when he first found out of the his past self, imagining the reason on those stitches, a vision of some kind, one bestowed by Messiahs themselves and hearing that assented to by Kankri. Funny how he can't decide whether he's jealous or not, if he feels betrayed by how the secrets have been denied him where his alter is privy, or if he's just motherfucking relieved.

The Initiate, dressed to match sits in the middle, ready to move in either direction, ready for the churn of the goat, when his Da finally rears to move and attack. Drown the three of them together and flee for his own life with another damn thought. He doesn't blame his alter for opting out of sleep, truly.

Gamzee though, does not. Gamzee sleeps shockingly deep, clinging tight to his Da's horn and the fur right at the back of the goat's head. His descendant alternates between sprawling out and taking up space, and curling up as small as he can make himself be, but he doesn't let go of Da. Initiate does blame him a little for that.

Capitol has had at him too, dressing him in loose fabrics making him look even scrawnier than he is, claws painted green and rainbow glitter dusting his arms half-washed off from having fallen in the water earlier, before the Initiate pulled him out. Strangely, though that one isn't him, the Initiate sees more of himself there, but in ways that jar him and make him think of times forgotten. But the kid's so, so damn naive it's near to be something motherfucking paniful. He remembers too, that in this kid's future is a path of doing the Messiah's work, of going off beyond the death of the universe, a fate shared with Terezi and the barest handful of others. Again jealousy pangs, before he remembers his own failure-- his alter's failure.

One isn't to question the Messiahs. They know the grand plot. But he wonders and he almost wants to ask. He is still for so long and then his palms press together, his forehead touching to his hands. He prays. Tell him, Messiahs, what he is to do with these two? What must he impart and what may be imparted to he, if anything at all? He wishes they would whisper to him now, as they had so many times before.

He's roused by shifting and sliding, and he's up and running, grabbing Gamzee by the arm before he slips off. Gamzee wakes and scrambles back up, muttering thanks and crawling back to the exact same damn spot. He turns and his alter is staring at him, sitting upright, eyes wide and shining in the dark. The Initiate shakes his head wordlessly, shurgging his shoulders, and his alter presses his lips together and nods, settling back. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs heavily before moving back to where he was, a little further down so he can dip his feet in the water and feel it there.

Re: [Initiate, Gamzee, Kurloz, The Seagoat] Late night outside the tribute tower

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

Most of her nights now are spent up with her lusus. For all she has adjusted, the bright brilliant lusus does not and it's all she can do to stay beside them, hands curled in the fur, trying not to fall asleep. It's odd to stay up all night again. Odd to sleep until the sun is already lowering again. But this night she managed to keep her lusus up most of the day and she's free to roam a little.

It's easier to walk around with them. It hurts to think that, honestly, but it is easier. There's less attention and less worry that those claws will find some purchase in the Capitolites. Less worry they'll be put down.

So it's easier to find him. Discreet questions led her out here--only to find a whole party of them there, three of them and a lusus. A matched set. She sees the other one there in bones and feathers, sees the Initiate like him. A smaller one up on top, perhaps his descendant. She has a moment to wonder what he is like before she catches their notice.

She's dressed in her green this time after all, a more usual leather and fur affair, not the decadent things they'd covered her in lately. Her hais is more tamed than usual, the front done in tiny braids, each with a little cat hairclip at the end. It's an odd contrast but the Disciple doesn't seem to notice. Or care that is.

"Initiate? I needed to talk to you." And what a strange thing that was to say.

Re: [Initiate, Gamzee, Kurloz, The Seagoat] Late night outside the tribute tower

[carnagecarnival]

The goat starts lifting his head before any other does and on that the Initiate is running up fast to the head of the goat, grabbing onto Gamzee. "DON'T YOU MOTHERFUCKING DARE!" He snaps at his Da, who's already getting a growl up on and on, already thinking of what cat tastes like.

He snaps his fingers and points at his alter points to the head of the beast, Kurloz is moving, somehow balancing even with his shoes and he takes Initiate's place by the horn. His Da ain't placated-- he's never been able to do such and he never will, but this is as close as he can manage. Gamzee mumbles, honks, and shifts, blinking bleary eyes open, before the Initiate pulls him further away from the water, to the middle of goat. He looks up at the Disciple then, and if it isn't impossible to tell with his make up, he looks tired.

He dives into the pool, disappearing beneath the water, until a second later, he's climbing up and out over the side. He shakes himself out, disguising a shudder, and he walks on over, dripping. Apparently, somehow, it wasn't enough to completely take the make up off. Just smear it the tiniest bit. He glances back at his alter and descendant-- and his Da-- just to be sure. Then he looks to her lusus, then to her and says, "Aight. SCHOOLFEED HIM."

[pythianjudgment]

It's later in the week when Terezi finally gets the courage to approach Fraysong again. It's been too long, and after all the people she's talked to... This need to happen. She can't keep putting it off.

Still, when she does approach, she lingers hesitantly a good distance from the pool. She can smell the way the water ripples along the surface, and it reminds her of how easily she could slip through, down into that darkness. It makes her fingers curl instinctively, clutching the fabric of her pants. But she stays there, waiting, and hoping that if she waits long enough, he'll come to her.

[carnagecarnival]

It's too hard to completely ignore the sensation of being watched. But then, what does one call being watched by a blind girl?

His head lifts and his eyes find her. He stills. He doesn't want to do this. He ain't know what all to even do. Digging his claws into an open wound would be easier. He'd cringe less.

He rises slow, seeing her across the way. And then he dives down into the water, carefully not thinking of anything of it. He resurfaces again and climbs up and out. He rings out his hair and clothes, stalling, before finally walking over. He doesn't say a word.