Eridan Ampora ♒ caligulasAquarium (
unconchonable) wrote in
thecapitol2014-07-30 10:59 pm
Entry tags:
In My Crown
Who| Eridan and Erribody!
What| The PRINCE has arrived! So he'll be wondering about being reasonably annoyed.
Where| Around the Training Center. Pick a floor, any floor.
When| NOW!
Warnings/Notes| Cursing???
If there was one thing Eridan was sure of, it was that this place beat the dream bubbles.
It was a small comfort in light of everything else. However, being brought here with the expectation to take part in some sort of gladiatorial arena of death was insulting at best. It wasn't that Eridan wasn't familiar with death or murder - oh no he greatly enjoyed the two when it wasn't him dying or being murdered - but the thought of being expected to play as some human land dweller's entertainment... it left him feeling ill with indignation.
With all the bullshit out of the way (which he barely listened to what was being explained at all), he had found himself in the Training Center. It was odd being alive again, being around all these humans, of all things. Sure, there were plenty of copies amongst the dream bubbles of those humans that wrecked their game before a mass majority of the trolls died (wonder how that happened!!); but it was different when it was so many different individuals. Actual individuals.
Eridan, however, had decided to take it upon himself to get to know the layout more, storming through the floors of the Training Center in a haughty, yet dramatic fashion. Opening what doors he could, going into what rooms were available. He had no real reservation over whether or not he should be going into a room or not. It didn't matter, because he was himself, and what he wanted was all that mattered. Any naysayers could DEAL. Perhaps he would come across a familiar face, though he made no calls for anyone in particular. More so moving quickly as he searched for no one in particular, memorizing the layout of everything as he went. It was a comfort to be somewhere a bit more solid, a bit more permanent than the ever shifting dream bubbles. It was nearly an alien concept to him by now.
If he was going to be here for a while, he may as well get to know the place, and the people he was going to be so cruelly subjected to for who knew how long, he figured.
What| The PRINCE has arrived! So he'll be wondering about being reasonably annoyed.
Where| Around the Training Center. Pick a floor, any floor.
When| NOW!
Warnings/Notes| Cursing???
If there was one thing Eridan was sure of, it was that this place beat the dream bubbles.
It was a small comfort in light of everything else. However, being brought here with the expectation to take part in some sort of gladiatorial arena of death was insulting at best. It wasn't that Eridan wasn't familiar with death or murder - oh no he greatly enjoyed the two when it wasn't him dying or being murdered - but the thought of being expected to play as some human land dweller's entertainment... it left him feeling ill with indignation.
With all the bullshit out of the way (which he barely listened to what was being explained at all), he had found himself in the Training Center. It was odd being alive again, being around all these humans, of all things. Sure, there were plenty of copies amongst the dream bubbles of those humans that wrecked their game before a mass majority of the trolls died (wonder how that happened!!); but it was different when it was so many different individuals. Actual individuals.
Eridan, however, had decided to take it upon himself to get to know the layout more, storming through the floors of the Training Center in a haughty, yet dramatic fashion. Opening what doors he could, going into what rooms were available. He had no real reservation over whether or not he should be going into a room or not. It didn't matter, because he was himself, and what he wanted was all that mattered. Any naysayers could DEAL. Perhaps he would come across a familiar face, though he made no calls for anyone in particular. More so moving quickly as he searched for no one in particular, memorizing the layout of everything as he went. It was a comfort to be somewhere a bit more solid, a bit more permanent than the ever shifting dream bubbles. It was nearly an alien concept to him by now.
If he was going to be here for a while, he may as well get to know the place, and the people he was going to be so cruelly subjected to for who knew how long, he figured.

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"You got a shitty sense a humor--the fuck is a pedo?" Of course he barely gets to ask before a finger is shoved against his forehead. A bejeweled hand quickly swats at the offending digit, shark teeth flashing in irritation. "Don't fuckin' touch me, filth!" He growls the words out with obvious distaste. Man this kid certainly has a stick up his ass, or something equally uncomfortable.
"An' I ain't no whiny tittybaby--whatewer that ewen is! Maybe someone ought to teach you some proper fuckin' manners when it comes to royalty!" Of course, he says this like he's in the position to do that. He isn't. He's aware he isn't, but that's not gonna stop him from talking big.
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He turns away, disguising the motion by going over to grab another donut since they're still in the kitchen. The last thing he wants this fishy little douche to know is how triggered he is by sharks, even if there's really nothing he can do with those teeth in the Capitol without bringing hell down on himself.
"You sure have a big personality for somebody so short," he calls over his shoulder, his voice casual still. "I'd love to see you try and teach me any goddamn lessons on manners. I fuckin' encourage it, shorty."
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"Size hardly matters, I'we taken down bigger than you." With his gun. Not that the details matter. However, that leaves Eridan with a challenge, but without any proper way to meet said challenge. He's no skilled fighter when it comes to hand-to-hand, he knows this. But he also knows he's not slouch when it comes to strength, thanks to his superior genetics.
"If you really want me to wipe the floor with you, you should at least face your opponent, 'less you're too much of a cluckbeast shit to." Eridan says mockingly. His fists are balled, he's honestly hoping to bluff this guy into cowardice, but he's got a sinking suspicious that won't happen. Oh well, it's been a while since he's had a good fight, and this guy's stature isn't about to intimidate him.
Though he is a bit curious if those so called power rangers are going to get in the way if a brawl breaks out.
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Which means Eridan was hit with a saliva covered donut earlier and has no idea. Yolo.
But if Eridan wants him to turn around so much, then Bro will oblige, with the donut sticking out of his face, the epitome of Not Taking This Seriously. If he's going to fight this stupid little troll, he's not going to make the first move. That'll just get himself in trouble, and he ain't going to jail or getting tortured for a gray skinned hipster.
"There," he says, biting into the donut and speaking through a full mouth. "I'm facing you. Now what?"
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When Bro finally faces him, donut in mouth, Eridan glowers at him. Up. At him. Since Bro certainly is tall. Well now. Eridan's becoming very much aware of his lack of powers, which he knew about from the start, but he's challenging this guy... and he's not even sure if he's got his natural troll strength intact. This could be a problem.
"Are you absolutely unable to take anythin' serious? Is that some sorta mental disability you'we garnered? Are you retarded?" Eridan asks quite flippantly. Who knows what he's angling for here. Maybe some sort of bullshit out, because he's not wanting to back down for the sake of his pride, but he's pretty aware that he can't exactly kick as much ass as he used to, due to whatever this place has done with his hope powers.
Fucking bullshit, if you ask him.
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So he's just going to be even more insufferably casual as he continues to not take the fish troll seriously. "If I'm riding the short bus, then I think it's safe to say you're driving it," Bro notes with a raise of his eyebrows. "Do you take everything so goddamn seriously all the time? The vibes I'm getting from you suggest a major stick shoved up your ass."
Except he thinks about it for a sec.
"Or maybe the problem is a lack of anything up there at all." Yeah, that could definitely cause some anger and bitterness. "Is that what you need, baby? A little TLC?" he croons, giving Eridan a mock pouty look.
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"I'm not sure what the fuck the length of a communal scuttle buggy has to do with this, but whatewer." The reference is utterly lost on him, which probably makes it more humorous that way. However, he lets out an audible tch at Bro's ~vibes~, but his face colors when he says the next part.
He snarls in a way that's downright unprincely.
"Fuck you! What is or isn't botherin' my nook ain't any a' your flippin' business, worm." he's so annoyed right now, his fists are clenching tight, finger nails digging into the palms of his hands. Oh he just wants to crash his fist into the human's smart mouth, maybe knock out some of his teeth with a well placed swing... At the very least knock that pout off his face.
"The reason I'm so fuckin' serious is 'cos I don't got time to deal with whatewer stupid, nauseatin', noise you got to blow outta your unattractiwe trap."
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He's also quickly growing bored of this whole attempted pissing competition. Usually he would put up his dukes and get down to it, but not today. So talking a big talk just doesn't appeal to him right now- nor does getting insulted, oddly enough. It doesn't upset him, but it's getting tiresome. "If you're so fuckin' annoyed with me, why are you still here, looking at my unattractiwe mouth?" Yes, he's making fun of the accent there. "This is the kitchen. I don't see you getting food. Why don't you go be pissy somewhere else?"
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"I can be pissy wherewer I damn well please, you animal."
However, that does raise a good point, he most certainly could be wasting his time elsewhere, this human really isn't worth the effort he's putting into this exchange. He eyes Bro for a few moments, before turning his gaze to the area he's in. He didn't even realize it was a kitchen - or rather, a nutrition block as the actual term would be.
"Besides, I don't know why I would ewen worry about tryin' to poison myself with whatewer bullshit food you humans think to be edible. I doubt you ewen got any grubloaf." he retorts, sounding at least a little less defensive as he has been. He still seems to be on edge, a bit, but it's pretty obvious he's given up on the whole fighting thing, actually listening to his better judgment.
Who knew that existed, right?
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He must be lonely to talk to someone he clearly hates, Bro thinks.
"What the fuck is a grubloaf?" he asks, proving Eridan's point. "I mean, that sounds like some Hakuna Matitties bullshit." He means Lion King. "Is your name Pumbaa?" You look like a warthog- but he doesn't say that, either. He's thinking a lot of things he won't say just for the sake of keeping the peace. "Why am I even bothering, I doubt you understand a word I'm saying."
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Eridan is pretty damn lonely, and whether he realizes he's talking to this strange human adult longer than he probably would if that wasn't the case, it most certainly is. Even before his death, he hardly felt the company of his so called friends, and dying did nothing to rememdy that. Instead of his friends, there were nothing but cheap imitations with different pasts, and even more different relations. Super frustrating.
Eridan opens his mouth to educate the poor uncultured plebe before him about the majesty and deliciousness of grubloaf, but then Bro rattles on about a whole hell of a lot that he simply doesn't understand. Really has no way to. There's probably some really twisted version of The Lion King for trolls, but like hell any of the names or events are all that parallel. So he's left just staring at Bro for a few good moments.
"...You're right, I don't know what the fuck any a' that is. Care explainin'? Or is it a waste a my time?"
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"I thought everything that came out of my mouth was a waste of your time," he point out, giving Eridan a very pointed look that manages to translate even though he's wearing shades. "But I'm gonna tell you anyway, because I hate you and I want you to suffer. Basically there's this really fucking adorable movie about this lion, but nobody cares about the lion. The best part of the movie is the two goofy sidekicks, Timon and Pumbaa. Do you have meerkats and Warthogs where you're from? If not, then I reject your planet. It's shit. Anyway though. They eat grubs. As a kid they actually fucking made them sound good, I nearly ate a beetle until somebody stopped me."
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"Can't say I'we ewer tried to eat beetles, kinda stupid to eat money." Yes he's thinking troll currency, "but us trolls do eat grubs. Grubloaf is made with grubs, there'd be no other reason to call it grubloaf if that wasn't the case. We also hawe grubsauce, an' other suchlike dishes. It's pretty usual for us, part a' our main diet."
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Eridan looks utterly take aback by all of this, why are these the questions he's being asked? Why did Bro even think of them at all? What sort of depraved pan does this human really have?
"You got some spiral affixin' pieces loose in that pan a yours, I'm fuckin' certain of it. First of all, you keep them in satchels or coffers, idiot. You make sure they don't just crawl away, and second off, what sort of shitty monetary system do you humans got? Doubt it's better."
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Okay, that part doesn't bother him so much, but still.
"We have paper, fuckwad." He's getting defensive over his obviously superior money. "With dead presidents on them. Dead and fucking awesome presidents. You just have shitty beetles. What happens if you fucking smash one? How can you spend a splatter on the ground, huh?"
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"Paper?" he sounds surprised and skeptical. Paper is so easy to damage and destroy, why would anyone use paper?
"You're just--fuckin' careful with your beetles, duh. What about you humans and your shitty paper money? Don't it get wrinkled an' destroyed? What happens when you get water on it? Or when it tears? Doesn't sound like the best way to account for what's in your coffers. Doubt those dead presidents help any."
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This conversation is being taken too seriously by both of them and neither of them have quite realized it yet. "Of course it gets wrinkled and wet, but it's way more durable than you're giving it credit for," he states. Why is he sounding so defensive? Maybe he just misses money. Capitol money just doesn't spend the same as his hard earned pornbucks. "Listen, you can think what you want but the fact of the matter is we clearly have the better monetary system, because guess what? You can stuff it between titties. You can't do that with bugs. So whatever, I don't even care what you have to say anymore. All your points are fucking invalid from here on out."
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"Look, whatewer I don't giwe a shit about this anymore, I don't giwe a shit about your gross tit-money. I know superiority, an' I know the minds of the deluded ain't easily changed an' I got no intent on dealin' with the pan-ache changin' yours will promise me, so. Piss off if you ain't got anythin' a import to add to this worthless exchange."
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It's around that moment that he decides to put in a pointed effort to try and make Eridan leave, because now it's a pride thing. So he grabs another donut. "But if you're gonna stay, I think I want to try out a new game. Let's play ring toss with your handlebars."
He'll give the donut a toss at one of Eridan's horns in the hope it lands. But mostly in the hope that it pisses him off.
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He stands his ground, watching Bro with obvious disgust and judgment as snatches up another donut, remaining quiet as Bro speaks. His expression softening, only to make way for the curiosity that flushes his face, brow quirking. Though it all disappears as quickly as it appeared when he says and then does exactly what he means.
Eridan stands still for a moment, shocked in disbelief by the fact this human just tossed a donut at him again, but not only that, made a hole in fucking one on his horn. The baked good swings around the tapered end of his horn for a few revolutions, before settling down towards the bend.
It takes a few good seconds for Eridan to even collect himself enough to be pissed, still stunned by disbelief of what happened, let alone the amount of disrespect Bro holds for not only himself, but his anatomy, to use his horn for such a stupid bullshit game. Eridan snarls, hand snatching at the donut, crumbling it in his hand, before he chucks the remains right at Bro.
"Piss off you shitbag! Don't you fuckin' disrespect me in such a way, you worthless fuck!"
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And it shows in his face, not even flinching when Eridan throws the donut at him. Oh no, how awful, crumbled donuts. Unlike you, he doesn't give a shit.
"Oh, I'm so sorry your majesty," it's said with so much sarcasm that even Eridan would have a hard time twisting it into taking him seriously. "Your title means jack fucking shit here, dumbass. If you expect me to treat you with respect, then you might wanna go about earning it. As of right now, I'd hardly consider you worthy of the court jester."
That's about the time he decides to push past Eridan, heading for the door. "Bye, Felicia."
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Also he has no idea who Felicia is supposed to be, so he just lets it go.
When Bro pushes past him, he receives an annoyed sort of hiss in reply, moving as he can to let the bigger of the two through. Making a mental note to make Bro pay for his insolence later, when he has more of an advantage.
Right now? Eridan is aware he can't do much, not when he's unarmed like this.