(OPEN) at least he's not dead now

[crabmunicator]

Who| Karkat and whoever runs across him.
What| Now that he's out of the mini-arena, Karkat's exploring the place he has to live.
Where| All across the Training Center.
When| After his death in the mini-arena ~ a few days after. Anywhere around then.
Warnings/Notes| Karkat is pretty foulmouthed and irreverent, but nothing else. Feel free to use prose (whichever tense) or action; I'll adapt with you.

Of all the ways Karkat would wish to be welcomed someplace new, this was not one of them. Thanks to the arena, which they'd shoved him in with only minimal explanation, he'd suffered his second death in as many days. Wasn't it enough for Jane to fork him before he showed up? Did he really have to get...

He didn't want to think about it. Maybe it was better that it was something from the arena rather than a fellow tribute, but it didn't make being killed by an oversized, animatronic cartoon beast any better.

Even after, being alive was strange. Back during Sgrub and everything else before Panem, at least there were countless mechanics to explain why someone might revive. Here he didn't know what they did. Something technological? It wasn't unthinkable when they'd brought him here from another part of reality, and while he was glad to not be dead permanently, it was unsettling to think they had such technology at their disposal.

Now he was... not free, but at least somewhere safe. Not subject to the current edition of the Hunger Games, at any rate. He learned his district and what that meant. (District 6, transportation, here's your floor and your room.) He learned that the tower was host to tributes and the various mentors, escorts, stylists, and whoever else served part of this entertainment machine. Night would bring curfew, but days would be relatively open, giving him the chance to feel out his surroundings.

A.
One place he'd definitely find himself was the actual training center, the floor from which the building got its name. Being here would mean needing to be in shape and on his game, and while he had skills still left over from Sgrub, they would do no good if left unpracticed. If he could find a sickle amongst the weapons provided there, he'd be practicing with that. Otherwise he might check out the other stations. Learn knots? Sure. Learn edible plants? Worthwhile. And then there was regular old relief of frustration: he may not have been a fistkind user, but that didn't stop him from taking things out a punching bag.

B.
Night of course would leave him confined to the District 6 area. Unused to a bed, lacking sopor slime, and still rattled from the arena, he didn't sleep much. It didn't help that his species was naturally nocturnal, but even during the day he sought little rest. At least the common area had a TV and games to play, and the kitchen helped for hunger or thirst. It wouldn't be hard to spot the look on his face: tired and grumpy, with perpetual bags under his eyes.

C.
During the day again, he more than once found himself up on the roof. Here the atmosphere was less stifling, with fresh air and an actual sky to see, unlike the darkness or the void or luminescent shapes of dream bubbles back on the meteor. It wasn't his sky, not the one he knew from Alternia, but if it had been he wouldn't have been able to stand the sun. This was tolerable - relaxing, even - and it gave him a space from everything else.

D.
But beyond the rest, he wandered. The tower was big, and he knew well enough that people he knew had to be around. He'd heard mention, or seen a flash of horn in the arena he couldn't stop long enough to identify, and he had run into Eridan while he was still in there. It meant teammates or friends were here, and these above all else he sought out, carrying him through common rooms or the lobby or across hallways and elevators throughout the tower. Feasibly anyone could run into him; though short, most people weren't grey with horns, and it made him stand out.

Comments

C

[shenunigans]

It's becoming more and more apparent to Dave that Sollux is not coming back. He isn't precisely waiting outside his door, but he knows how this goes. It's happened enough before, it's happened to people he gave a damn about before too. He doesn't know if he's really dead forever, so he can only take comfort in the fact that he's probably alive in some timeline and better off not being here.

The past few days have been a mixture of embarrassing, painful and mildly traumatic. He's not sure when he's going to hit the point of being unable to handle all the crap that gets heaped on him or if he passed it ages ago and just didn't realise. Whatever. He needs some air to continue handling (or not handling) this bullshit.

As it happens, coming up to the roof was the exact opposite of avoiding any sort of bullshit. It doesn't take him long to recognize Karkat, but that doesn't mean he loses his cool long enough to gawk like a moron before sputtering out an equally moronic greeting.

"The fuck?" Quick. Save yourself, say something funny. Fuck. "You're late, asshole."

[crabmunicator]

Karkat didn't see Sollux. He'd been too busy bitching at Eridan or running across some obstacle or generally trying to survive amongst all the hectic action to process who else might have been there. He glimpsed horns, and Eridan maybe mentioned some people, but it wasn't the ideal scenario to have a sit-down chat about everything.

In the present moment, his thoughts are kind of elsewhere than his varied collection of best friends. He's found himself a chair to sit on, and his gaze is set out at the many bright buildings forming the Capitol. He's here, so now what?

Obviously the threat of the Empress and what she's done to Jade and that chick with the fork are far away. Even Her Imperious Condescension couldn't pull him across reality like this. He's going to have to find and talk to what teammates and friends he has here, and learn about the other tributes to gauge who can be trusted. He'll have to learn more of what's going on in this place, because right now he has far too little knowledge kicking around his mind. How does one defy an institution of this much power? Obviously it's several worlds they've chosen from, like someone harvesting the freshest picks out of a grand garden. There's got to be people who want to return to their own universes.

It's as he's contemplating A) whether other efforts have started yet and B) how to find out that Dave finds him. His head jolts up at the greeting, turning a second later to spot him standing there.

"Dave?"

Wow, yes, no shit it's Dave. His lips twist in a recognition of dumb he sounds himself.

He tries again, "You say it like I just hauled my derriere over here on purpose. Is it normal to just slam me in here in time for my horns to get served to me?" Standing, he leaves his chair to head closer as he speaks. "Or should I say rammed up my own asshole? Thankfully not literally, though whatever the fuck that robot was that hit me seemed vicious enough to try."

His arms fold over his chest as he comes to a stop in front of him. "How long have you been here? And what was happening when you were last... not here?"

D (about a week after the arena, though)

[pythianjudgment]

For as much as Terezi is usually on top of new arrivals, her most recent activities have left her a little out of the loop. Getting stabbed through the middle and barely surviving the Obstacle Course of Death would have been a pain in itself, but spending a week in a hospital bed being tended to be doctors and nurses has left her a little lacking in the current events department.

It's a week later and on her way to the Kitchen when she almost literally bumps into Karkat. Her balance is a little shaky, and she leans heavily on the cane they've given her while she recovers. As soon as she realizes who she almost ran into, Terezi stops and stares blindly, going a little pale as if she'd seen a ghost.

"Karkat?"

[crabmunicator]

Karkat's run into a fair number of people by this point, more than he expected to, but then it's hard to be ready for your own ancestor or an extra Makara. Even the chick with wings was kind of weird. But even if he's looking for people he knows, he's not quite searching as actively as he could.

And okay, he could put up a thing on the network. It wouldn't be a memo when their communication devices lack a text option, but it would the nearest option. It's just that what's he supposed to do like that? He can't make plans. He can't gather info on who knows what. The network most certainly has to be monitored by the Capitol, and he'd rather not get them questioning his group. This is safer, for all it runs counter to the way he'd like to do it.

Of course, that doesn't mean he knows where to expect people. Even if he learns their districts that doesn't mean they'll always be around. He's often enough not on six's floor. There's other things to do around here, and sitting around too long leaves him feeling antsy in this atmosphere.

In other words, being nearly ran into by Terezi is kind of startling.

"Woah, what?"

He stares, not going pale, but nonetheless stunned. Dave told him she was here, sure, and even that she was from comparatively far back on the timeline; but after the shock of seeing her with eyesight restored, it's strange to see them back to... Is normal the word? Normal for her, at any rate. Added onto that is her cane. She had one before, but it wasn't the kind for leaning on.

"Are you alright? I didn't..." He straightens up more. "I didn't expect to run into you like this."

D.

[carnagecarnival]

He hadn't missed Karkat. Not even a little bit had he gone to motherfucking miss. He didn't miss the attitude, the comments, the way he'd treated Terezi and Mituna, any goddamn part.

The first they met, they'd mistaken each other, thinking a trick of time involved-- the mutant to be Signless, and his ownself to be Gamzee. It'd be a little easier to mistake now, with his hair all short but the braids in front, but still rather tricky, he thinks. The Initiate knows he'd not mistake the Vantases anymore. At least not up close.

He's about to greet Kankri when all it registers. And it does so with a dull growing unhappiness. Oh, sure, Signless will be just fucking giddy. Terezi will be happy to see the brightvein back all in their midst, so she ain't got to worry on him none no more. But he?

"Not motherfucking you," he says, more to himself, as he steps out from the elevator into the main lounge. He goes to turn right back around, maybe to send out someone who actually gives a shit about this motherfucker, only to find the doors already closed. He growls and immediately slams the button, much more aggressively than truly needed.

[crabmunicator]

It might have been said to himself, but Karkat catches the words all the same. Or maybe a better way to say it would be that they catch him, running a tension up his spine to his shoulders to his skull itself. It's the verbal equivalent of stepping in something unpleasant, only what's left on him is the muck of unpleasant memories and the knowledge of his last conversation with Terezi before Jade zapped them off the meteor.

He turns, though not gladly, to see the clown failing an attempted retreat. That's not Gamzee, though. He knows Gamzee and his hair and his slouch, but those are Makara horns plain as he's ever seen. Is this guy taller, too? Maybe?

"Carlos?" he hazards. "Wait, weren't you mute? One of you was mute. Which fucking one of you was mute, there are entirely too many of you to keep track of who's got which disability for what reason."

c

[reassures]

It's honestly a little strange that Nill never made the connection between Karkat and the other Vantases in the tower, but she can contribute that to only seeing Karkat in person a few times, even if she'd liked him plenty. Even watching the Arena, she didn't get it until she heard one of the announcers use his name, and after that it had made sense. (She's aware she might have lost people in her head again. She tries not to dwell on it.)

After that, she hadn't been able to go see him. She'd had to help Davesprite, who had burning slime on his wings, and then... and then. Honestly, she was scared. There was already one person that didn't know her.

There's not much to be done about it now, though. Nill exits the elevator onto the roof, a cigarette already between her lips, a lighter in her hand, ready to light it when she steps out, but she stops in place, because there's Karkat, and she had been very pointedly not looking for him. But there he is, and Nill is there now anyway. Now or never.

She exhales a deep breath, and lights the cigarette, before pulling her notepad out. When she walks over to Karkat there's a small smile on her face, and she holds up the notepad, a word already written on the otherwise blank page.

hello.

[crabmunicator]

Karkat's moved past some of his initial stresses when he's up on the roof this time. He's got friends here, teammates, and that means that he something to work with. There might not be any immediate progress against this place, and he still needs to learn more to be certain how to move, but it's always easier when he has people at his back that he can trust.

He's standing near to the edge, though a good space from the barrier, looking out at the buildings again. He didn't live in a big city where he came from, and human architecture differs quite a bit from that of trolls. Their windows are all different, for one. He's seen them plenty of times in the various movies he's watched, but it's still strange to see them in person, even at a distance.

He hears the approach before he sees her, catches her out the corner before he turns, and then... Honestly, he stares. Humans aren't weird; he's to those. But wings? Then rather than say anything she lifts up her notepad, plain greeting neatly written with no explanation whatsoever.

"Hi?" His eyebrows are knitted up, and don't show sign of untangling. "Should I know you? Let me just get it out of the way: I've been told I was here before but I don't remember anything about it, so if we were friends or acquaintances or anything like that my sponge has been washed clean as new on the subject."

A

[69problems]

Logically Signless knows it will only be a matter of time until he runs into Karkat and yet he's still completely unprepared for it when he sees those familiar nubby horns by the firestarting station. He's just made peace with losing Karkat and begun to move forward. Seeing him so unexpectedly in the arena and again now has tipped open the lid on the box he'd carefully set aside all his Karkat-related emotions in.

It worries him immensely that Karkat hasn't come to find him. Is he angry? He should be, probably. Signless didn't even tell him or say goodbye properly before going on what was honestly a suicide mission, and the next time they were anywhere near each other was a few seconds before Karkat was blown up. It's tempting to just leave and let Karkat come to him when he's ready, but he knows it's on him to apologize. Karkat shouldn't have to demand that of him.

So he makes his feet take him across the training center and to the firestarting station. He hovers for a second before kneeling down and placing a hand on Karkat's shoulder, both to alert him that he has company and as a preemptive placating gesture. He'd hug him but, well, if Karkat is angry with him he probably won't appreciate it. Hugging can happen after apologies.

"Karkat. I know you're probably furious with me but you have to talk to me about these things or they'll just get worse. For what it's worth, I am sorry. I should have told you where I was going."

[crabmunicator]

The fire starting station is more of a pit stop. He knows how to start fires, he's done it before, but he's checking to see if there's methods he's unaware of in case something doesn't work. Preparation and practicality never hurt anyone, now did they? Not that Karkat's always practical in his future preparations - did he really need a chair in his syalldex? - but this at least can be said to be worthwhile.

He's fairly invested in it when someone comes by. He's not concerned or worried; he's heard people moving around already, seen them too, and so long as no weapons are near him he's without worry. Which there shouldn't be, given the fire starting station is grouped more with the survival skills area.

The only trouble is when that someone is suddenly touching his shoulder (what) and calling him by name (what) and then apologizing (what???). He didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for anything of this. He jerks his shoulder away and turns to spot, uh, er.

It's not Kankri. This dude's too old to be him and Kankri wouldn't be getting down on his knees to apologize to him much of ever. The only apologies he'd expect are the self-important oh no I must have triggered you kind and he really wants to stop thinking about talking to Kankri right now.

But those horns are Vantas horns, and those eyes are Vantas eyes, and he knows the shape of the face even if it's older and dear space tentacles in the inky dark please tell him he's not got an actual ancestor sitting here before him. He's knows they're real, he's heard they're real, he's endured Kankri's lecture(s) on his Disapproval™ but that doesn't mean he was ready to have his own right there apologizing to him for god knows what. He might as well be babbling the lyrics to human folk music for as much sense as it makes to him.

"What? What the fuck. What the actual fuck. Who are you? No, no, you're not my ancestor, you can't--" He cuts himself off, quite suddenly squatting to stare him squint-eyed in the face. "What the fuck."

Karkat's not into ranking events in his life by order of weirdness, not after the life he's had, but this still earns the measurement of what even the hell. Pretty damn weird, in other words. He's tempted to poke him as if checking for realness, but that would be awkward and this guy already did touch his shoulder.

He makes upward motions, saying, "Get up and stop apologizing. I don't know what you're talking about."

B

[dead_black_eyes]

Curfew was incredibly inconvenient. Linden occasionally went up to smoke with Nill, but tonight he wasn't quite up for it. He was restless but not ready to face her kind eyes and patient silence; his own demons were too loud and the completion of the last mini-arena hadn't exactly granted him much peace. Even if Punchy, representing District 6, had won, there had still been so much death and ugliness. Therefore, Linden found himself unable to sleep and drifting toward the kitchen, where he'd hidden a flask of liquor. It was't the Capitol stuff, sweet and light and sometimes fruity. It was from District 6, practically moonshine, acrid as motor oil and leaving a punishing aftertaste. It was just what he needed; the second he'd unscrewed the cap and thrown back a mouthful, the room was set spinning, and it was a relief, a return to status quo.

The world is supposed to turn. Nothing unusual about that. Most people just don't like feeling it for some strange reason...

The sound of footsteps had the often-skittish Victor turning quickly, tensing and then relaxing as he noted the grey skin and stubby horns of yet another Troll. He knew Terezi and he'd met another like her, a former Avox, but he hadn't spoken proper with this one yet. He'd seen him die in the arena, of course, but in all fairness there wasn't much he could do about that. Karkat had only just arrived, after all, leaving no time for the kinds of preparations Mentors usually put their tributes through.

"If you're hungry..." he motioned vaguely toward a nearby Avox, seeming to exhaust himself with merely the effort of suggesting it.

[crabmunicator]

While Karkat had done nothing to avoid his districtmates, he hadn't particularly sought them out. They shared his floor and they existed, but so long as they didn't trouble him, he had no reason to seek them out. Maybe he'd seen this one before, just in passing - it was hard to miss people coming and going - but this was the first he'd ever gotten a good look at him.

God, he looked weird.

It was the eyes, he thought. He knew his own tended to be set with bags, product of stress first and not helped by the times he got less sleep, which had been the case lately. But they were so dark. It was off-putting, and Karkat frankly stared as his steps came to a halt.

Something about his movement struck him, too, like just a gesture was too much. Just who the hell was this?

He gave the Avox a glance - he'd got the idea by now that they were servants, though he didn't know their whole deal - and waved them off. The idea of being waited on like this was still strange to him.

"I'm just getting something from the thermal hull," he said. He couldn't quite keep his gaze off the man (older, human, unnerving) as he moved toward the refrigerator.

B -- let me know if this is all right!

[capitolprivilege]

Stephen wasn't limited by the curfew, a fact that he usually tried not to shove in his Tributes' faces. He tried to get back by 11, he really did. However, he'd been out visiting family, and had lost track of time. He pushes open the door to the D6 rooms a little after one, glancing around to see if anyone was still up.

He sees one of the new trolls -- or, well, one of the old trolls, but at the very least a new version, since he's been reassigned to Stephen's district, and it's hard to tell with the stubby-horned ones anyways because there are usually at least two of them -- still awake, playing some kind of game.

"You're up late," he says mildly. Stephen hasn't spoken with Karkat -- any Karkat -- much before. He hadn't had time to do more before the mini-Arena than work out a publicity angle; there had been no room to get to know Karkat socially.

(One last thing Karkat might notice: half-hidden by the glittery suits Stephen Reagan always wears, on one of his wrists, is a plain metal cuff that marks him as someone who has committed an offense against the Capitol.)

yep, no problem!

[crabmunicator]

Curfews are stupid. They do nothing but coop him up and leave him restless, and that's part of why he's playing a video game now. It may pass the time, but taking out enemies expends frustration, enough to take some of the edge off. It doesn't mean he's happy, though.

But with the hour late as it is, he's not expecting anyone at all to come in. He hears the noise, impossible to miss, and the voice that follows up. His posture stiffens at the sight of the suit.

It's not the cuff, really. He wasn't here for the whole prison thing and he hasn't had them explained before. It could be an accessory for all he knows; human fashion is weird in general, but especially that of the Capitol. And it is the Capitol he assumes this man belongs to, with material that sparkly.

Pressing a button pauses the game, though he keeps the controller in hand.

"My species is nocturnal." His tone is measured but defensive. He hasn't tried to leave, and while this man might not sound displeased, there might be some stay-in-your-own-room or must-be-in-bed requirement he hasn't heard about.

C

[arosewiththorns]

The roof was one of Rose's preferred spaces. Those who came up here generally kept to themselves, leaving it much calmer than other shared areas of the tower. Here at least she could get a little peace and quite, and fresh air to boot, a fun feature her room didn't really possess. And for all her appearances and reputation Rose does enjoy some fresh air.

The most recent arena and the little slip she had during her viewing it is still on her mind when she comes up today, despite her best attempts to not let it weigh on her. It was a stupid slip, all addicts were going to have one or two and it doesn't mean it's a complete failure. She comes up to try and get her mind off it hopefully, to try and ignore the guilt and annoyance eating at her and Rose is already flicking through a book as she exits the elevator.

And then she looks up, sees the now familiar colour of horns and she can't help the face she pulls or the words that slip out before she can think better of them. "Oh great, another one of you."

[crabmunicator]

Karkat isn't thinking about much when Rose arrives, and he hasn't been here long either. This is the third time he's been up here, and he's still getting used to the look of this planet's sky. It's not bad - it's nice not to be blinded or burned by the sun - and the pattern of white clouds on bright blue reminds him of Skaia. It's not like much home, but then, he hasn't been on Alternia in three years.

Wherever that train of thought may have led, it's pulled off the tracks as soon as he's... greeted, let's say.

Whatever he might have said is similarly put to a stop as soon as he looks at her. Blond hair, purple eyes. It's impossible not to think of a certain someone, and even the skin and shape of the face are alike, but she's older, definitely older, by some amount of years he can't determine. Human calendars and life spans are a mess to piece out. The question is obvious on his face, practically punctuated in the press of his eyebrows as he looks at her.

There's the possibility she could be from the far future, but he doesn't know what to make of her words either way. Another troll or another Karkat? She doesn't look pleased with his presence, in any case.

After an uncomfortable pause has stretched out, he manages to ask, "Are you... Rose?"

n/a

[reassures]

It doesn't take an overly long amount of time for Nill to make sure that the Initiate is settled after Karkat's left. It's not exactly a short amount of time, but she remembers Karkat having left the building, which means he might be still out by the time she finally gets back onto the elevator. For a moment she considers just punching the number for the next floor up, just to check, but ultimately decides against it, instead heading back down to the lobby.

A few of the peacekeepers eye her warily as she steps off, but they must not view her as much of an issue as Karkat or the Initiate, because they lose interest in her and what she's doing pretty quickly. Nill finds a cozy enough seat near the elevators, within view of the doors to the entrance, and makes herself comfortable, pulling out her notepad to doodle in. It's not her intent to actually stay down here for the conversation with Karkat, but it seems like the easiest spot to run into him again.

And so, she waits.

[crabmunicator]

After that whole debacle Karkat didn't even want to be in the same building as the Initiate--whose name he didn't actually know yet. He might as well have been Carlos after all, for all he cared. And sure, he knew he'd have to return eventually, but for the time being a walk and some fresh air sounded just right. It gave him space to calm down, to get his mind... not entirely off things, but at least past the immediate anger. It also got him a pastry from a bakery he chanced upon, which was pretty good.

(Who doesn't like a good pastry, though?)

It's only so long before his treat is gone and he has nowhere left to wander. Besides, there's people who staring along the way, and they threaten to pull his nerves back up into an irritated knot.

Still, he's not quite expecting Nill when he returns. He had no idea what her signing to the Initiate meant, let alone any clue of where she'd be, so to see her sitting in the lounge as he wanders in draws him up short. It looks deliberate with where she's seated, a spot too obvious to miss, and he doesn't hesitate to head over.

"Nill?"

D

[unconchonable]

If anything, Karkat's shortness made him as easy to spot as his grey skin and horns did. Of course, Eridan wanted to catch up with Karkat again after the mini-arena, it didn't exactly make catching up the easiest of things when you're trying to not die.

So, to his relief, as he was wondering the tower himself, he caught sight of his nubby horned leader--or perhaps, ex-leader. Eridan wasn't sure exactly where they stood with each other. Sure, he helped him in the arena, and he'd likely help him again, but that said little to answer the question of how Karkat felt about him.

Eridan hadn't been popular with those from their universe, and it was a small surprise as to why, but this was Karkat, and Karkat always seemed to forgave him for his shortcomings, so perhaps this would be no different.

He could only hope.

"Hey Kar." He spoke up, nonchalant and calm as he approached the other troll from behind, catching him in transit to who knows where.

"You gettin' properly reunited with this place? Honestly, bein' tossed into that arena first thing was likely the best means a reunion this place has got to offer, but at least this ain't so lethal."

[crabmunicator]

It had been a little since Karkat last saw Eridan. He hadn't been avoiding him, but between wandering around and meeting people and the oh yeah he died part, he'd been a bit distracted. He knew he was hear, which was well enough for the time being, and he'd deal with the rest once it came up.

It came up.

Particularly, on the way down from his floor he caught a familiar voice from behind. There was no question of identity; he knew the sound and the nickname both, too distinctive for them to come from anyone else.

"It's not getting reunited when I don't remember the first time at all," he said as he turned. "They didn't even mention this place to me before I was being shot up into the arena, which as you saw wasn't the gentlest form of welcome."

His arms folded across his chest. "I don't see why you're so cheery about everything."

A

[worldsaway]

Like anyone around here, Thor has his own baggage and frustrations to work through. The past few weeks have been a particularly hard exercise in patience and measured reactions, it's been difficult to control his anger at the injustices he's come to witness. It's for the greater good, he knows, but the greater good will be alright if he finds a way to unleash some frustration.

When Thor approaches the line of punching bags, Karkat is already working at one. He doesn't recognize him, so he says nothing for the moment, stepping past him to stand at his own bag. It's then he gets a better look at him, taking into account the fact that he's a child and most likely just suffered through that hellish Arena. He doesn't know if he'll want to talk, but he steps closer nonetheless.

"You have a good arm, little one." He compliments, hoping to break the ice a little in his approach. It might seem like a mockery coming from someone with guns like Thor, but that's the risk you take when you're ridiculously good looking. "Take care how you stand, your force will be no use if you're knocked off your feet."

(1/2)

[crabmunicator]

Karkat's definitely had a frustrating week. After the chaos of the end of the meteor trip and dying there, he found himself in a whole different universe, shoved into a death game with minimal explanation, and wound up dead again soon after in a way even worse than the first. Not even in the span of two full days did it take that to happen!

He's found friends here, sure, even made what might be a new one, but things come with their own trouble. Not having the faintest memory of his other self's actions has made things harder, first and foremost in his encounter with the Initiate, but elsewhere too. His past self somehow found a moirallegiance with his ancestor, and he's still not sure what to make of that. He's never met the guy, and he can't even contemplate the quadrant right now, but it doesn't stop the odd guilt of not even remembering it. He can't imagine how that has to feel.

And of the people he does know, everyone's from different time points and has been around longer than him. It makes the task of piecing out who knows what and what to do about it difficult more often than not. None is helped when he can't even plan openly without fear of what the Capitol might do.

To make matters worse, his first arena was the short version. How the hell is the proper kind going to go?

In short, he has a lot of reason to be hitting that punching bag, and when he hears the address of little one it prompts another hard swing of his fist. He's still facing his target as he snaps, "How about you take this bag and shove it up your digestive system?"

I want the D. Guessing it might be a little after the initial post though

[arrogantalloy]

As was Tony's habit by now he had left the tower long enough to get a smoothie from his favourite place before heading back. His intention was to find Bruce and spend some time with him, or even do the same with Steve or Thor but with added teasing.

That was until he came across the nubby horned troll.

Tony knew that there were a handful of trolls in the capitol, he'd seen their images on the screen leading up to the arena's and actually had something of a confrontation with one of them. And Dave had attempted to assure Tony that they weren't actually some king of goat or antelope people, Tony remained unconvinced on some level because when he saw the troll his first words are.

"Are you part giraffe, maybe Okapi? Or do you still have to grow into those?"

He gestures to the horns with the bottom of his smoothie cup as he drinks it.

TONY!! that's fine btw, and sorry it took me so long to tag back!

[crabmunicator]

The timing is ironic: just as Tony returns is when Karkat is gearing up to head out. He has nothing important in mind, no smoothie trip or anything, just a desire to stretch his legs and get some fresh air away from the tower. There's room enough to walk around here, a roof clear from the rest, and the space below for exercise, but sometimes you just need to get out. That's what he desires.

He would have continued on his way if not for being addressed in a way that just demands attention. Flippant, gesturing, mocking - the whole gets Karkat's eyes into an exasperated glare as he turns to face the man and his stupid cup of whatever. Could he not have used his hand? Does he not deserve that much?

"What the greased fuck is an okapi? And I'm not part giraffe, either, whatever that is. Have you never seen a troll?" His hands splay out, gesturing broadly with his words. "I'm from another planet, genius! And wow, what shock, I have small horns! Tell the whole world, why don't you, it's not like everyone else has noticed!"

His mouth moves like he wants to say more, only to cut himself off. While this man is a human and (hopefully) not as likely to slam into a wall as the Initiate, he doubts any nearby Peacekeepers would be content to hear him make even mock-threats against a stranger. Instead Karkat's arms lower, and he settles for a tooth-baring grimace.

"Unless you've got something important to say, I advise you to back the hell off."

C - on the later end of the timeframe

[privilegecheck]

The sun's never comfortable for Kankri, but with the curfew in effect he goes out when he can. It's not like his sleep cycle isn't permanently shuffled around at this point. And the roof tends to not often be populated. It's a good place to simply sit and be alone.

He doesn't notice that he has company when he emerges onto the roof, taking a seat against the shaded wall of the small quasi-building that houses the stairwell's entrance. He lets out a loud sigh and tries to make himself comfortable. As comfortable as concrete can be, anyway.

[crabmunicator]

It's not the sun that brings Karkat up here. Frankly, the sun itself makes him feel tired, for all being tired doesn't always lead to sleep. It's just that the area is one with fresh air, away (for the most part) from the bustle of people down below, and it gives him someplace to be when he doesn't want to train or wander out into the city. He's too recent an arrival to have much in the way of fans yet, but even with his drab style his species tends to earn him attention.

But just as he's free to come up here, so are other people. Usually that's not a problem. He met Nill up here and he likes her well from their interactions so far. And it's not the sigh that worries him. It's loud, sure, but unless the source continues in that fashion it's not going to a problem. It's just that when he looks to see who it came from...

Oh sweet undulating horrorterrors' infinite tangle.

It's him. Him. He can still remember the endless, droning lectures, how they'd go on for hours at a time, and that was when they had the timeless expanse of the dream bubbles to make that part easy. Here, time is linear and constrained. It follows rules, and rules are imposed in relation to it. If Kankri catches him here, surely he'll be stuck until curfew sends them down to their districts, forced to listen to every agonizing run-on probably all the way down to his block.

He can't take it. He can't fathom it. But what can he do?

The trouble is that not only is Kankri here, but he's near the exit. If he tried to escape now he'd be easily spotted. Go figure why the tool had to sit himself there of all places when there's seating arrangements stuck around, but the day his dancestor makes sense to him is the day the rest of reality cracks open and crumbles.

But maybe... maybe there is a chance. Like spots to sit, the roof also has plants. Though he's stood at one side of the roof, a safe space in from the invisible forcefield, there's a small arrangement of bushes and plants not too far from him. If he can just move quick enough--if he can dart over before Kankri looks--

He can catch his foot on a stray rock and slam face-first into the whole mess.

B- ackdated to fuckville and back

[plushaeusrumpified]

Bro could be considered a troll when it came to his sleeping habits. Pretty fucking nocturnal. It wasn't for reasons most people were- nightmares, depression, it wasn't really his thing. He just enjoyed being up all night. It had the added bonus of making things difficult for his escorts and stylists trying to wake his ass up in the morning.

Wandering out of his room after a while, Bro couldn't help but notice someone up playing games. Games were like his mating call, they sang to him and attracted him no matter where he was. He made his way over, quietly surveying before moving closer. It was someone he wasn't familiar with, but it was a troll.

They were always fun. Feh.

He leaned over the back of the couch, eyes moving from the troll to the TV. "Hey- jump. Jump. Now! No- go left. You're gonna fuckin' lose."

Troll or not, he couldn't resist backseat gaming.

[crabmunicator]

Here at night during the curfews, it's hard to miss the sound of footsteps, but easy to source them. It has to be someone from his district; he didn't hear the elevator ding, and the voice that comes from somewhere past his shoulder isn't Stephen's. It's not a voice he thinks he's heard before, or if it is, only distantly, but this doesn't bother him. He hasn't exactly gone knocking on doors to introduce himself to his districtmates.

"Fuck off. I know what I'm doing," he growls as he stubbornly goes right, instead of the I'm going to shove this controller down your meal tunnel if you don't shut up he was thinking. Just because there aren't peacekeepers physically in the area doesn't mean they couldn't send one up for what they hear over the recording equipment they must have. He doesn't want to risk it so soon after his... encounter, let's call it, with the Initiate.

Of course turning right leads him into a dead end, and with another snarl of frustration he turns his character back around to return to the intersection.