(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

[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?"

[arosewiththorns]

The look on his face gets a sliver of curiosity from her, a sliver more than what she wants. She's gotten a little use to trolls knowing who she is, and while part of that is thanks to Dave telling them all, she knows another part is that she is a recognisable sort of face. After all, her eyes are just as notable as Dave's when it comes down to it, and she wonders how much of that is a left over mark from the game. But this look of confusion, of uncertainty is new, and much like the proverbial cat Rose is curious.

She lets the silence drag, lets the next move sit in his hand, and when he finally does speak he's met with a careful brow raise, and Rose lets the silence stretch a few more heart beats before she speaks, voice cool, her grip on her emotions tight. "Perhaps. Not the one you think you know at the least." Another beat, and even if the face digs at half forgotten memories that she's never really pressed into she can't pull information so easily here. "You are?"

[crabmunicator]

"Karkat Vantas," he answers without the long pause this time.

There's still an uncertainty on his face as he considers her answer. Not the one he thinks he knows could mean a number of different things. Different timeline, different time point, different something. He knows about the Scratch, of course, and the mechanic of it, but...

"Explain? I doubt I'll need a long answer." He can always ask more if he's still confused, but A, B, or C is the main response he's looking for.

If he'd heard from Dave about her then this whole line of questioning would be needless, but then he wouldn't have gawked quite as much the first time. Of course he'd know she's Rose then, and which one at that.

[arosewiththorns]

It rings a bell, the name, but it's a vague bell all the same. Muted and fogged over and something about dick ouija and for some reason the thought of bad troll romance novels come to mind and Rose frowns, shoving said thought to the side.

She considers him all the same, her only movement the way to rolls a slim white stick through her fingers, the capitol alternative to cigarettes she's found. She could refuse to answer, and why provide a troll with knowledge they don't yet have. Better to keep them in the dark and the word is half on her tongue before she shrugs.

"The other Rose, John, Dave and Jade, the ones you've had contact with Scratched the game. A reset, which created an alternate universe where we became the guardians, and our own caretakers the players." The simplest way to explain it, one that doesn't give away too much.

[crabmunicator]

That's all she needed to say. His face lights up tellingly, confusion washed clean, and his mouth drops into a round little shape for an "Oh." He nods and motions, "Okay, yeah, now I follow. The same shit happened with trolls before, which is its own even more moronic story that I won't be getting into. So long as you're not as awful as the troll team before ours we'll be just fine, which hopefully will be an easy mark to attain."

She hasn't been awful so far. He knows it didn't take much with the dancestors, but he has his hopes. Please, please, universe, don't let them be in vain.

But with her identity and rough place in the space-timeline cleared up, that brings to mind other subjects, and what he does know of the rebooted session. Things like...

"Hold up," he says, and his expression turns serious. "Do you know about things with the Empress? Because when I wound up in the new session, suddenly Jade and this other human chick were her freaky mind puppets, and she expected me and a friend of mine to just do her bidding are her brand new slaves."