thecapitol | In My Crown

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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.

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It's been a long week for Dave, but it's winding down. Finally. Although at this point, winding down may not necessarily be for the best. The lulls between horrible, uncomfortable situations can only be so long, right? Better not be caught off guard by it, at least. After a few days of moping around his bed and the couch pretending the Mini Arena didn't happen, he's decided it's probably high time he trained something other than his ability to block out news coverages and gossip.

When Eridan bursts into the Training Center, Dave had been midway through climbing one of the structures intended for that very purpose. For once, he's using things like they're meant to be used. He lowers himself down when Eridan approaches, giving him an appraising look as he tries to figure out who he is. In the end, the easiest way to do that seems to be to drop down from the structure and land right in front of him.

"Boo."

Edited 2014-07-31 05:32 (UTC)

Eridan was high-strung as it was already, being somewhere unfamiliar as he was, with humans everywhere. So maybe he should have been a little more aware of his surroundings, one would think, anyway. As it were, he wasn't exactly paying as much attention as he should have, his mind a swirl of thoughts both angry and resentful, so when Dave decided to drop in - quite literally - Eridan was in for a surprise.

One that resulted in this shrill squawk of a noise as he nearly leaped out of his shoes at the sight of someone dropping down right in front of him. His second reaction was to try to assault whatever it was, but luckily for Dave, he harnessed some self control before that balled fist covered in rings was swung.

The prince snarled at the human before him, glaring through his glasses at him as if Dave's very existence was the source of all the universe's annoyance, and perhaps, in this moment, he was.

"How about you learn some fuckin' manners an', I don't bloody know, NOT drop in on a troll like that?" He huffed, his arms crossing over his chest as he puffed it out. Clearly, he was an intimidating sort.

"You're lucky I ain't in the mood to shed blood, or the floorin' here would hawe had a new paint job."

Edited 2014-07-31 05:54 (UTC)

Okay so, troll. That part is obvious. Dave isn't sure he can place his face so he's either completely dead or a form of dead where he floods dream bubbles to be a goddamn annoyance. He swears he looks like one of the ones they met along with Meenah and Aranea and whatsherface and whosehisname, but he hadn't really lingered around long enough to get his ass groped.

His straight face twitches at the squawk, a brow quivering as he resists the urge to laugh. Luckily, Eridan is typical enough in his troll mannerisms to take something funny and make it insufferable. He could be fun, but he doesn't know if he likes the idea of him in an Arena.

"I was helping you sharpen your detection skills. Bzzt, you failed. We can try again later, but I won't tell you when. That's the fun." He taps the side of his nose, looking utterly unperturbed by the threat. "Clearly you're new, so I'll drop you a hint. See the power rangers? The guys dressed in white? They don't like it when you maim people outside of the Arena. They're picky like that, clean up crews are expensive. Word of god here, if you don't keep your murderboner out of the Arena they'll fuck you up something fierce."

Why is he helping this guy.

Why indeed.

Eridan watches him, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes the human. He looks somewhat familiar, like one of the humans that littered the dream bubbles. He might very well be one, but it isn't like Eridan took the time to converse with any of the pink ghost monkeys that were floating around. He had priorities, and was pretty much set on not talking to any human again. They were all ungrateful assholes anyway!

With the mention of power rangers - what the hell are power rangers even - Eridan glances at them as Dave explains about the no murder fun allowed. He rolls his eyes, because he isn't about to let some morons decked out in their ugly white getup tell him what to do. At least, not when he has a better footing here and what not. Maybe.

"Good to know." He responds, not sounding all too grateful. In fact, he still sounds like someone took a steaming piss in his cheerios. He's still eying Dave, trying to decide how to take this human. Pops outta no where, rude as hell-like, startles him, then gives him advice after being threatened? He's odd, to say the least of it.

"Also I don't need your assistance on my detection skills, and next time you drop in on me unannounced, I won't hold back handin' your horns to you--" he pauses, looking to Dave's hornless head, before waving a hand dismissively, "metaphorically speakin', of course. Don't need to make a mess to do that."

He pauses briefly, glancing about before giving Dave a sidelong glance, his nose slightly turned upward.

"So you a natiwe here, or?"

Edited 2014-07-31 20:27 (UTC)

There are sometimes an opportunity to fuck with someone presents itself perfectly. As it so happens, one of the doors Eridan decides to burst through is the door to the community kitchen, where Bro is just about to leave. Sometimes, an idea to screw with somebody just pops into his head spur of the moment with no prior thought.

So that's why as Eridan bursts through the door, suddenly Bro lets out a high pitched scream. "Aiyeeee- I'M NAKED!" And he'll throw the thing he's holding right at Eridan's face; which happens to be a donut. Because he doesn't have a bra or panties to throw to really sell the prank.

The scream startles Eridan a great deal, because who the fuck would expect that? Along with the claim of being naked. His cheeks fill with color, not exactly wanting to burst in on someone who's in their wigglingday suit--but that's short lived when a donut smacks him right in the center of his face. The sugary baked good sticking for a moment, before it falls to the ground, landing by Eridan's ugly shoes.

He honestly pauses for a moment as he tries to just... process what fucking happened here. His eyes settling on the adult with the dumb shades, before his expression goes from dumbfounded to pissed in 3.5 seconds.

"What the bloody fuck is your problem!? You ain't naked, not ewen close!" He snarls as he approaches Bro, all 5'4 of him. And yes, he did stomp on the remnants of that donut.

"Do you make it a sport throwin' your sugar-based baked morsels at the faces a royalty, you dirtblooded, pink-skinned, hornless animal?"

Edited 2014-08-01 12:35 (UTC)

Venus isn't used to people barging into her room. Even her noisiest roommates (looking at you, Initiate) tend to leave her alone, not because she's a solitary person but because she's so easy to find and talk to that there's no need to hunt her down. She may hold a record for murders in a single Arena, but knocking on her door literally never kills anyone.

She's tangled in her bedsheets, taking one of those deep midday naps that she couldn't take on the living room couch because it's unattractive to drool in public. Her hair, in long red microbraids now, is splayed across the pillow like a fish's fin. Her belongings, less now that Enjolras has reclaimed his books and some of hers, are stacked in tidy piles on the desk and next to the armchair. The hologram that takes up one wall of her room is depicting a white-sand beach with languid waves.

And then Eridan smashes his way in like the damn Kool-Aid Man and Venus catapults into a sitting position, wiping a little saliva off her lip with the back of her hand and glowering like she wishes she could set people on fire with her eyes.

"Excuse me?"

If she hadn't done god-knows-how-many Arenas, maybe her heart wouldn't be slamming so hard at the rude awakening.

Once he's entered the room, he stops in his tracks. Well, this certainly is someone's personal quarters, isn't it? At least he's not being pelted with a donut, though there's a good chance something a bit more damaging could be thrown his way. Especially with that glower set in his direction.

He meets it with a glare of his own, his arms folding over his chest, hip cocked to the side. He's nothing but attitude and indignation.

"This your personal block?" he asks as if the answer isn't obvious. He gives the place a look around, as if he has any right to scrutinize someone's room he so rudely burst into. As far as he's concerned, he has the right!

"Ain't bad," his oh so generous deduction, "I'm kinda new here. Makin' some rounds to get to know the place."

He gives her a dismissive wave of his hand before it crosses back over his chest, "You understand."

Ah, yes. Rest in piece, donut. You died for a good cause. Bro will have several more in your honor after this interaction is over.

"I hope you realize that's the joke," he says with a shrug. "I'm sure you wish I was, though." He takes a moment to realize he's probably starting to flirt with someone Dave's age, so he backs it up. "No pedo." He quirks an eyebrow at the declaration of royalty, before reaching out and giving Eridan a slight shove to the forehead with his index finger. "I binged a princess in the head with a piece of chocolate, so... Yeah, I think it's becoming a habit." A beat. "Do you make a habit out of sounding like a whiny tittybaby?"

Eridan's scrunched face tells far more of his disagreement with that accusation than words alone ever could. Not that Bro wasn't attractive for a soft pink monkey. But Eridan isn't one for bestiality.

"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.

It's funny how minor things can give you uncomfortable flashbacks. When Eridan flashes his teeth, his mind instantly goes back to the recent mini arena. The troll's teeth look alarmingly like the teeth of the sharks that fucking tore him to shreds, so it's more than just a little uncomfortable.

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."

Eridan doesn't catch on, but then again, it's hard for most people to catch on to Bro's subtleties. Eridan isn't about to. He does, however, watch as he gets himself another donut, his eyes fixed on Bro's movements. Just in case he plans to make that donut fly his way again.

"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.

Dave gives Eridan a sage nod as he glances toward the peacekeepers, not deigning it important to tell him the correct name for them. If he's here long enough, he'll figure it out eventually. You don't last long without hearing the term thrown around once or twice.

More importantly, he can already tell that this is one of those trolls. He's been balls deep in troll drama so long it's not hard to tell that this guy is one of the standard, over-aggressive and entitled ones. Dave isn't attached enough to care if he gets clocked for his behavior by someone else, but he's sure he'll manage that regardless of whether Dave gives him a few tips. Things are tense enough without some new guy making a mess of things.

"Clearly you do. Don't often hear a guy make a sound like that when he's prepared, unless that was part of your cunning attack plan." He moves a hand up to his hornless head to ruffle his blond hair idly, as if checking for horns.

Dave crinkles his nose in turn at the question. "What in the fresh hell gave you that impression? No. Goddamn. I'm from your universe, trash prince of Altair. One of the humans you all decided to troll pile on when you fucked up your session."

Eridan certainly is exactly as Dave deduces. Aggressive, entitled, vicious. He's as pure and true to the hemospectrum as a sea dweller ought to be - or at least he tries to be. He didn't get his powerful position with the Nautical Aristocracy out of kind gestures and magnanimity, that's for certain.

Eridan grumbles his annoyance at Dave calling him out, muttering a 'whatewer', before attempting to discard that topic altogether. He has no interest in his mistakes being brought up, there's far more important things to focus on. And his mistakes are never it.

"Excuse the fuck outta me, wermin. All you humans look the same, don't act like you're so surprised I couldn't tell you were one of the useless hunks a flesh from that other session." He rolls his eyes, idly fiddling with the ends of his scarf as he watches the blond, "Also we didn't fuck up shit, we beat the bloody game. Anomalies ain't no fault a ours."

Though it was technically a fault of Gamzee's and Vriska's, but who's counting?

Edited 2014-08-02 16:21 (UTC)

At this point, it's difficult not to notice the accent and harder not to draw attention to it. It's fucking ridiculous, no other troll sounds like that, what is this guy smoking? He might actually be a little interested in the prospects of bothering him some more if he keeps being hilarious.

"That's racist." Said curtly. So curtly. "I don't look anything like that shitlord." He's just pointing at a brown haired guy passing in the distance, barely even glancing at him. "But yeah, I can see why being strikingly easy to identify with horns that probably catch on anything would be a real ace in the hole. I'm intrigued and remorseful of my fleshy body." He gives his chin a thoughtful stroke, because he cares so ironically.

"Mind telling me your name so I know who they're talking about when you inevitably overstep the neato chalk lines and get yourself dragged off to the chokey?"

Edited 2014-08-02 16:36 (UTC)

Surprisingly Eridan isn't smoking much. He doesn't need to, he's so high off of his own self-importance, no drug could possibly make him any more ridiculous.

"Like I giwe a shit." he retorts just as curtly. He's not really the racially sensitive type, sorry Dave. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. It certainly isn't the horns that makes trolls easily recognizable. I mean, who could mix up a bunch of grey-skinned, black haired aliens. It's not like without their horns and symbols they'd look all alike or something!

"Eridan Ampora, prince of hope. An' I won't be gettin' dragged no where," he says all of this while puffing up a bit, trying to act as proud of his name and title as he actually, genuinely is. How embarrassing.

There's a very brief roll of his eyes at Eridan's dismissal. This guy could easily piss him off if he let him, so he makes the subconscious decision that nothing he says is worth taking seriously. If he's blowing this much hot air he's either used to being taken seriously or used to being ignored, it has the potential to be hilarious.

A brow quirks at the use of a title, but he refrains from scoffing. "Dave Strider, Sex God and Knight of Time." He extends a hand for a shake but hesitates and wiggles his fingers midair before dropping his hand back to his side. He wouldn't know what a handshake is, right? He's all fresh and unaware of customs. Awesome. "Nice to meet you, my good homo."

"It's my bedroom, yeah!" She casts the bedsheets aside - thankfully, since she was napping, she still has her gym shorts and tank top on. She gets to her feet and pulls her hair up, tying it into a hasty knot as she stalks over to the doorway.

She'd have given him a pass had he not gotten all snooty with his body language at her. She folds her arms and stands across from him, leaning in so her face is close to his.

"Does getting to know the place usually involve busting in and spying on sleeping girls?"

"Oh don't flatter yourself." He remarks snidely, holding his ground even with her getting in his face. He's not intimidated. Perhaps he should be. Though, now that he's gotten a good look at her, he'll admit she's certainly not bad looking. For a human, at least.

"I wasn't spyin' on you, an' why would I? I'we better things to do with my time than to fluff your already inflated ego." Says the sea dweller who is bursting into rooms and acting like those who confront him are in the wrong. He eyes her, before scrunching his nose in distaste.

"You can get outta my face any time now, I ain't too keen on samplin' the smell a your breath."

"It's not inflated if it's true," she says, sniffing a little. The truth is that her ego is not at all unlike a Fabergé egg or a hot air balloon - it appears large from the inside, but it's fragile and full of puff and self-esteem issues deep down.

Not that she'd ever admit that to the douchebag who charged into her room.

Venus, being the absolute height of maturity, leans in closer and breathes, hard and open-mouthed, onto Eridan's face. Her breath has a stale 'I was just asleep', and otherwise just smells like mints.

"Yeah fuckin' right."

They have something in common, then! Eridan's a whole lot of bark, and some bite, but when it comes down to it, he's got a laughably fragile ego. It's probably where a lot of his viciousness comes from, gotta protect his weaknesses! Even if it gets him in a whole mess of trouble, not to mention how it pushes most people away from him.

Oh well.

There's a sound of distaste that leaves him as she opens her mouth, leaning in far too close for comfort, and then he smells her breath. His fins curl, and he narrows his eyes as he draws his head back, and if she doesn't pull back fast enough, she's gonna have a grey, bejeweled hand stuffed in her face. An attempt to simultaneously push her away and close her mouth. Gross.

"Figures a animal like you ain't got no sense a class, nor any fuckin' manners!" He growls at her, glaring daggers. He's real sick of all the disrespect he's been getting. It's like these assholes are going out of their way or something!

Eridan's pretty much max level at pissing people off, he probably did some sort of life hack to get all the levels for it or something. Godtier jackass, basically.

However, when Dave says his own title, Eridan hardly can help how he draws backwards, giving him a look that's mixed between bewilderment and concern. Clearly this guy is just fucking around. He thinks. What further confuses him is that hand that's offered, and he does nothing but stare at it as if it's infested with some sort of disease, but soon enough Dave retracts it, and Eridan feels his space is a little less violated.

"Yeah, same--wait, what?" He stares at Dave, clearly confused by the word he just used. "What the fuck is a homo?" and should he be offended? He feels like he should possibly be offended.

The snort he lets out at Eridan's claim to have taken down bigger suggests that he doesn't believe him, or at least thinks there's gotta be more to the story. He'll take the donut daintily into his hand and run his tongue across it, licking up some of the delicious icing that's all over it.

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?"

Thankfully for her, combat training and several Arenas behind her have given her extremely quick reflexes, and she manages to lurch her head back well before he gets one of his gross sparkly hands on her face. She snaps her mouth shut.

"Did you fucking call me an animal?"

When he was the one who bust into her room? That's rich. If she weren't worried about getting into trouble with the Avoxes (and thus, with the Peacekeepers), she'd break his nose right here, she thinks.

Eridan's fine with her dodging, it works all the same, really. Gets her out of his face, and stops her from breathing on him like someone uncivilized. When she asks the question, he just rolls his eyes, giving her a flat look.

"I did, yeah. Good to know your auricular spongeclots are workin'." Seriously, he has no shits to give, and if he's offending her? Well, all the better!

"You hawen't exactly prowed yourself to be otherwise, what with your indecent conduct. Really, breathin' on me, what the fuck are you? Four?" Of course, four to Eridan is roughly eight and a half in Earth years, but the sentiment is all the same.

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In My Crown

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I LAUGHED

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GOOD

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This CR is already beautiful.

I love it!

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