Eridan Ampora ♒ caligulasAquarium (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unconchonable) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-07-30 10:59 pm
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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."
no subject
"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."
no subject
no subject
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."
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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."
no subject
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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!"
no subject
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."
no subject
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.