thecapitol | When you were young you were the king of carrot flowers

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When you were young you were the king of carrot flowers

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.]

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Oh. The space between her eyebrows furrows. Visions, she's heard of. What could Signless and his rememberence of his other life be anything but visions. She skips over it, focusing on the content, not the way it came about.

Her hands raise to her ears as she tries to imagine a sound so piercing and overwhelming as to render her deaf. She can't. It's impossible, she thinks, especially to imagine it coming from that indigo across the water.

"Wait--he did it because he deafened me? Or--the other me." Time is confusing, past lives more so. She drops her hands, shakes her head, disbelief.

"No--No offense but that doesn't sound like something you would do. Not even Signless would do that. Remorse, begging forgiveness, not silencing oneself forever--oh. That's why he made those gestures wasn't it? That's the way to communicate if I can't hear?"

She's almost too caught up in that realization, how perfectly it fits into the strangeness that was her last week, to thinks about what he might have revealed to her. She shakes her head again.

"Nothing beyond what I've told you. He made gestures occasionally but he let me talk more than he tried to communicate." She hesitates, "It's not a help, I know."

"HE'D HAVE SAID NOT EITHER, BUT APPARENTLY THE FATES BEGGED TO UP AND DIFFER." It wasn't as if he'd never surprised his own self. But to let himself be silenced-- she's right. He'd never want such. He'd never seek it. Broken as it is, its still his most valued, how he preached. How could he be a preacher with no voice?

"He would guess the gestures like to be such. MOTHERFUCKER ASSUMED HIS OWNSELF WOULD HAVE KNOWING AND GREETED HIM WITH IT FIRSTLIKE," He tells her. "For the why he can only up and guess. MEASURE PREVENTATIVE OF INCIDENTS FUTUREWAYS PERHAPS? Appreciation found anew for the silences? LEARNED THING OF VISION? Or maybe he just didn't get at to think in grief or... whatever the fuck." He shakes his head, offering a helpless shrug. He should know, it's his alternate, but he doesn't, he hasn't a damn clue.

"If nothing was like to be said, there ain't nothing what may be done," He sighs. "NO ONE GAVE MENTION OF HIS FUTURES HAVING VISION SUCHLIKE. Perhaps it ain't apt to repeat." If it were to happen again, at least they can repair them. Most of the time. He supposes there's a grace in their do-over of their world. Speech and hearing returned back. What pleasant gifts.

She wrinkles her nose at the mention of his future--of visions. No, she never knew the Grand Highblood to have such powers. His powers were definitely more than enough as they were. He needed little else.

"None that those beneath you ever spoke of." Her gaze shifts, away, distant as she briefly sifts through the memories. The time spent in the clutches of the Subjuggulators was hardly time she tried to remember. If someone had spoke of it, of visions, it wouldn't have been to the heretical disciple of Signless. Most definitely not when there was torture and tormenting to be done.

"Not that I was privy to such things. Either way, it's a mystery I doubt will be solved before he leaves." If he leaves. She feels bad for hoping he does. That smile with stitches stretched is unnerving, but the strange misplaced affection is even more unnerving.

He twitches and scowls. He ain't even touching the removing of his other. The expression it gets should be indicative of his thoughts on it. Ain't even goddamn looking at that motherfucking topic as such all it is.

"AIN'T BRINGING HIS FUTURES UP TO TAUNT, DISCIPLE. He's just trying as to figure out if all he's going to up and motherfucking deafen people without damn warning again," He says, unhappily. He looks away, clenching and unclenching fists.

He sighs through teeth. "AIN'T GOT MORE WHAT TO ASK. He'll find Terezi at point laterways. WHEN A... FIGURING OF THINGS HAS BEEN UP AND DONE."

Oh--She messed up again. It hurts a little, for a moment, before she discards the thought. She wasn't to know what he meant. Not a few games ago, he would have brought it up to taunt. Then again, she might have brought up something as well. The brief hurt-guilt-uncertainty flashes across her face in mere moments before she composes herself.

"I didn't think--it's painful memories. The only time we met previous to this kidnapping was in brief flashes--seeing you before we ran--and our capture. We were not exactly hive guests. If you had deafened someone, I think that would have made into the stories people told of you as well. Always more ways to breed fear I would think."

And she's not saying it right again, the bitterness is seeping through, the hurt, and she shakes her head, "So no, I think you are safe."

Her hand is curling into the fur of her lusus, at the base of the mane, even as the lion opens its jaws wide to yawn.

"I'm going to go."

"Sorry."

It slips out quick, like a squeakbeast to the wheat. So much worthless noise.

"ABOUT BEFORE," He explains, looking down. "The knowing ain't so lost on him, don't you know. GOT A CRAW STUCK MUTANT RED WHAT AIN'T NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU. I got a motherfucking beef up on with your Signless what may well be a whole mooing motherfucking feild of the beasts. HAD THOUGHT WHEN HE FIRST GOT A BEHOLDING OF THEM NUBS HERE TO POP THE FUCKER'S NUG FROM ITS CONNECTING JUST FOR THE SIGHT. Just for suchlike a motherfucker still can't be looking at him. FOR SHE TO HAVE TO LOOK AT HIM AND HE. Me and motherfucking I. WOULD BE DIFFICULT, HE'D THINK."

Messiahs know he'd want to tear the throat out of his future, if all such a thing presented opportune. All those times he dreamed of ripping through grey to reach fuschias royal only to find indigo, indigo, indigo all over, never nothing else. He carries on, "We can't get our gander on samelike and view the wicked pictures identical before us, he gets it. BUT SHE GAVE CHANCE BEFORE..." His shoulders are hiked and he keeps wanting to shrug them. There's an unpleasant look on his face but he's trying to smooth it.

"Should've snapped throat stem like ambrosial bread. SHOULD'VE CRACKED MARROW CLEAN TWO AND MOTHERFUCKING TWO AND SPLIT HARSH DIVISIONARIES AMONGST FELLOWS. Surprise for the happenstance of such would have been nil. A MOTHERFUCKING SURPRISING IT WOULD BE FOR NOT IN SLIGHT. But Alternian preach ain't your preach, is it? AIN'T A MEAOWBEAST'S MOTHERFUCKING JAM. He ain't forgotten what you said. AIN'T BEEN NO SLIPPING THROUGH OF HOLES FOR WHAT AS WAS DONE AND NOT MOTHERFUCKING DONE. Just as all she has mind and rememberance up on what a Highblood got done and not. WORD WOULD BE IT DON'T MEAN SHIT, THAT ALL WITH OUR RETURNINGS, WITH A MOTHERFUCKER GETTING HIS DEAD ON ANYWAY, IT DON'T MEAN NOTHING. But he ain't believing that, he ain't never been the type to. MEANT SOMETHING, THAT. He ain't believe in no wasting and... he ain't want to waste what chance she's given."

He rubs at his neck, so many motherfucking kinds of uncomfortable. Then he starts to walk too. "SHE CAN GET HER GOINGS ON. He ought check on those fuckers anyway, lest the kid motherfucking fall in again." His exasperation is oddly half-hearted.

She doesn't reply at first, listening with quiet intent. She doesn't understand everything he says--but the basics perhaps. She's indescribably linked to Signless and it taints his view of her, from the moment he knew what her title was and what it meant. Slowly they split, she makes herself a person outside of him and she wonders if Terezi talks about her ever because it reminds her of the way Terezi can dislike Signless yet be pale for her. It makes her cheeks flush, not that he's really looking for it. So much of her life is tied up in Signless that she forgets sometimes that she can be seen without a film of mutant red.

"It's not your fault. We were all painted with the same brush. And he...I don't know what happened, if you give me a chance where you give him none. But thank you?"

She pauses, smiles half heartedly, "Good luck."

He doesn't want to tell her about it. No. That's for him and the Signless and if he has said nothing to the Disciple that's one damn thing the fucker did right. He, the Signless, and Terezi Pyrope. The Disciple need not know about chances already given and lost. So for all it makes his expression twist a little and harden, he doesn't say anything on it.

He passes her by, waving a hand. "TO HER TOO HE UP AND FUCKING SUPPOSES." They'd god damned need for it.

Edited 2014-06-15 04:46 (UTC)

She pauses, watches him for a moment, then turns and goes. Leaving him to his own devices as she ponders her own new set of thoughts.

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When you were young you were the king of carrot flowers

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