(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

[reassures]

On the bright side, the name-calling doesn't seem to bother her much. That much, at least, she's very used to hearing and reading. Or she was at one point. It gets a little muddled sometimes.

The lack of any apparent evidence does seem to put her a little at ease. She manages a small, if somewhat awkward smile, wings fluttering slightly. If he's got enough energy to be calling people names, he's probably pretty okay.

What was the wording he'd used, though? She doesn't have too much trouble understanding the Initiate, and the sign language definitely helps, but going for an exact quote isn't quite so easy. Still, best shot.

"he mocked me and mine"
it sounded like the last one did it a lot.
he was really upset.
what did you say to him?

One thing at a time seems easier, given her method of communication. They can get the Initiate's stuff out of the way and then worry about the peacekeepers.

[crabmunicator]

It would take a lot to break Karkat of his linguistic rudeness. It's a pretty good gauge of how well he's doing, though, so she's not wrong there.

He squints at the words Nill quotes. "I don't know who he counts as 'his', but I mock everyone. Literally everyone." Then again... He pauses, frowns, and amends, "Okay, not the Capitol people because I don't want to die sooner, but basically everyone else. I'm talking even the people I like, sometimes especially them. He's acting like a fresh-hatched wiggler if he can't take a little verbal sass from someone a head shorter than him."

But even that's just the general. He looks over the rest, snorting disbelieving amusement at upset, and considers.

"I didn't even do much. He like..." His hand holds out, palm open. "I heard him behind me, something like 'not you' with some variation of motherfucker in it, and first I thought it was Gamzee. But then I turned and saw it wasn't, and I thought, okay maybe it's this guy from... this place called the dream bubbles, don't ask right now. So I ask if that's it, but I get the name wrong, I guess? So he gets all offended and acts like I ought to know about some 'understanding'," he mimes the quotes, "that we supposedly have. So I tell him rightly to calm the fuck down, that I don't know him, and to cut back on the attitude. He's pissed still but explains how he wants me to keep away from him, and I tell him fine, whatever, I don't have time for clown cultists anyway. And that should be the end of it, right?"

He holds her look for a second, as if expecting a nod or confirmation, though they both know the story doesn't end there.

"But instead of this," he continues, "the asshole snaps at me about how I supposedly ordered him to do something - I didn't do anything like that - so I give him attitude back because fuck that, and he decides to pick me up and slam me against the wall. Might I add he was tacking on condition threats here and there with the rest, too, and made a completely unnecessary comment telling me to 'enjoy the games.'"

He motions to Nill. "But as I'm mid-freakout, you showed up and split things up. And took his side?" She earns another raise of his eyebrow. "It sure looked like you did, anyway."

[reassures]

She nods along, at least to the first part, because she's pretty sure Karkat would probably be insulting people right up until he dropped into a grave. Nill has no idea what the last Karkat did, and she can't use this one to figure out what the issue might have been as well. Sometimes different versions of people weren't all the same, there were odd little changes, shifted traits, bits of their lives that had or hadn't happened. There was no way for her to really say what may or may not have been different about the last one. It seemed like he was gone long before she showed up.

Maybe the Initiate just couldn't handle Karkat's mouth that well. She could, but she was used to it, and even then she had gotten used to it while she was a telepath. One meeting in person and it was obvious he was mostly just a lot of bark. Surely it couldn't be that easy for other people.

The nodding quickly stops though, and Nill actually cringes a little, because she's pretty sure she's seeing how this went wrong. Not that it excuses any of it, but from what she's hearing it's sort of starting to make sense.

She doesn't try to interrupt him, however, and the longer she goes on the more apparent what caused all of this is until he gets to the end, and she actually starts to look a little ashamed of herself. Her wings fold a little closer inward, and she rubs her arm, looking away from him before she actually manages to go back to writing anything.

I wasn't thinking of sides.
but you're right. I'm sorry.
you were freaking out because you were being attacked.
he wasn't.

It had seemed like the Initiate needed it a little more at the time, all physical appearances aside. And even though that's in part truth, it's also an excuse. It wouldn't be the first time she defended someone she cared about when they were in the wrong. It seems like old habits die hard.

Nill sighs, and adds more below the last line.

something about his name is different. important.
I don't know what.
if you got it wrong that might have been the cause.
he still shouldn't have said any of that to you.

[crabmunicator]

So much of Karkat really is the presentation. Being a troll and growing up as a mutant meant needing to keep people from seeing his as weak or an easy target. It... hasn't always worked, or not the way he hoped, especially when underneath the insults and colorful language he cares for his friends so much. He's like a hedgehog, prickly on the outside with a soft underbelly.

(Do not touch his actual belly, he will bite.)

Here and now he actually is upset about the whole mess. The Initiate's actions sum down to 'dickhole extraordinaire' in his mind, and Nill's reaction didn't particularly help. He sees her sink in as he goes on, but it doesn't stop him until he reaches the end of what he's said.

Once she lifts her notepad, though, his reaction is instant.

"Thank you." His hands spread out in emphasis. "I'm not going to pretend I'm nice and harmless, but his whole overblown shitfit was unwarranted."

Now his arms settle back to his lap, folded there together with his body leaned forward while Nill adds to her message.

"Fuck if I know. He didn't actually tell me it, just corrected me about the guy I mistook him for. All I can tell is that he's a Makara from the horns." And there goes a hand again, miming the wavy line of it. "And you know, other features, but I don't need to go into it."

[reassures]

At least with what little knowledge Nill has, it does seem pretty unwarranted. Especially since this wasn't even the same Karkat. The other one was probably actually dead or off in some other hellhole, and either way, it didn't matter now. Karkat didn't need to pay for that other guy's mistakes. She's not sure the Initiate will see it that way, though. The last one must have really messed up bad.

She doesn't want to spill the Initiate's name. She's never heard him say it, and she doesn't know just who Karkat mistook him for, but when people give you two different things to call them by and they only actually say one of them, it seems like the kind of thing you don't go around telling people. She felt bad enough using it as a way to try to get his attention away from Karkat for a few seconds.

So, Nill settles for what she thinks is the better alternative.

he's never said his name to me.
when we met he signed his name, and he said he was the initiate.
it sounds like a title.

[crabmunicator]

Doomed is Karkat's presumption about his other self, and frankly, the worry has sat in the back of his mind that this will make him a doomed self as well. He never knew about this before it happened, so unless the Capitol could alter memories, send him back, and bring him here again in a way seamless with the flow of Paradox Space's alpha timeline...

Yeah, he's gotta be doomed. It's not a very pleasant thought.

Here and now, he's just going to try to survive this, and the bullshit his past self caused for him.

As he reads over Nill's new reply, his eyebrows scrunch up into a look so offended he appears almost surprised at it.

"What?" he snaps, turning the look to her. "You mean that guy, that entire sack of tools, that infected toenail scraping who barely looks a sweep older than me has a title? Not even my dancestor has a title and he was 9!" His hands have set off again, gesturing emphatically.

"Which, okay, that's in sweeps, but like... Fuck, I don't know how human age works. A sweep is about two years, a little more. What I'm saying is Asshat Makara isn't old enough to deserve a title. This is a big thing, a troll thing, a special thing where you earn some distinction and get called it once you're an adult. How did he get one? What farty clown nonsense did he get himself into to be called the Initiate? And Initiate into what, I want to know. Clown college? Does his cult actually have that? Is clown college a thing? Where Faygo-drunk shitlords gather together and see who can honk their horns the least in tune?" He looks at her like she might actually know.

It breaks a moment later with a sigh and slump of his shoulders. Of course she wouldn't. She's just some winged chick from who knows what version earth.

"This is stupid. I'm not going to call him it, and he can stuff his spindle-horned skull up his chute if he has a problem with it."

[reassures]

Join the club Karkat.

While Karkat being offended really isn't anything particularly new, she has no idea what upset him until he starts ranting. Her eyes go a little wide, but it's only because she never realized titles were a thing that trolls wanted, let alone that they were such a big deal. In her experience usually titles were technicalities, or sometimes awards. Or just people who wanted to sound superior, but you could usually tell when it was one of those types.

Her wings flutter a little, but she lets him get his rant out of the way. Goodness knows if he gets interrupted he'll probably need to finish the rant later anyway.

I never asked.
why do you keep saying cult?

She kind of got the impression that the Initiate is religious from the conversation she had with him before this, but she hadn't asked much. The stuff he'd said was nice, but Nill wasn't a fan of religion anymore.

[crabmunicator]

Karkat's arms shoot up into the air. "Because he's in a cult, dingus! You think the face paint was just for fun? He didn't even mention it to me, but you don't do up your face like that without being a Faygo-guzzling, horn-honking worshiper of the Mirthful Messiahs with all the fake-ass miracles and special stardust that implies. How are you his friend without knowing that yet?"

Religious. Ha. Karkat's not really the one she should even be asking about it. He's not the kindness in regards toward it, not after his history with a different Makara, but even before then he never had high regard. Like her, he's no fan of religion, and it seems much as though religion's got no use for him.

His hands drop out of the air.

"It's this thing with his caste and the way troll society is set up. At the top there's the Empress and other sea dwellers, but the highest out of the land dwelling castes is always a fucking clown. There's all this crap about it and it's so mind-numbingly idiotic I can't even dredge all the shit Gamzee babbled at me back to conscious memory, and I frankly don't want to try.

"Go ask Fuckface Hornslut if you want to learn the fine details," he says, because like hell he'll use his real title. "My horns have all but rotted off in pure seething apathy over their fake, useless faith."

[reassures]

She lets him rant again, though this time she doesn't so much as reach for her notepad. Instead she leans her elbows against the counter top and leans against them, hanging her head slightly, rubbing her hands over her face.

Nill had always liked that Karkat was a pretty perceptive guy. Misguided at times, and occasionally wrong in what he thought peoples motivations were, but he always meant well, and hardly ever meant the stuff he said maliciously. It was just how he was. It was the way that he figured out how to live his life without needing to worry more than he might otherwise, and Nill respected that.

Now she wishes he would stop looking at her, because it seems like every time he does he manages to find another thing she's screwing up, and none of them are things she has any right trying to defend.

She should have asked, but she hadn't. She's barely asked anyone a goddamn thing because she hasn't wanted people asking her, and she's been trying so hard to keep it together that she didn't even bother looking into the fact that the person who had been a wonderful friend to her and that she could communicate with easily was apparently in a fucking cult dictated by, she assumed, blood, because that seemed to be how things worked for trolls.

Though she doesn't look up at him again, she reaches for her notepad with one hand and writes another message, sliding it back across the table to him.

I will later. thank you.

Someone please stop the ride, she wants to get off and go the hell home. Even Karkat knows more about her than the Initiate does just from their first conversation, and there's something really wrong about that.

[crabmunicator]

Surprised as he is that Nill missed something like the Initiate's religion, he's not so mad at her as his tone would imply. He's not mad at all, really, not even exasperated, and frustration's not it either. It's just shock, almost, certainly a bewildered feeling, and the rest is the outpouring of his frustration with Makaras in general. Gamzee's faith wound up hurting him - hurting several people - and now the Initiate's taken to being a dick for reasons he's yet to know. It doesn't inspire a calm, gentle explanation.

His eyebrows press in minutely to see her rub her face, but this he doesn't ask about. The answer she gives, when she does give it, is short - terse, even. His lips press thin.

"I'm not sure it's something to thank me over." He speaks more softly, anger winding down after the explosion. "It's a lot of useless nonsense, so it won't be much good if you do learn about it."

But with that said, he's not sure where to take things. The topic of the Initiate has been as well-discussed as it's probably going to get, and he's hardly interested enough to ask much more.

So he says, tone knowing how lame he sounds, "Thanks for earlier. For keeping him from doing anything worse, I mean."

[reassures]

She probably should ask about it, honestly, and she knows it. While she doesn't have a lot of experience with cults or any reason to really learn about them, it's not like koolaid jokes are confined to one specific universe, and she's been in four of them up until this point. She should probably at least find out enough to know whether or not she needs to be concerned.

While she debates if she should write as much Karkat actually thanks her, and that was about the last thing she was expecting. Nill lifts her head to look at him, before a very tiny smile lifts her features, a bit tired but genuine.

of course.
if something happens again and I'm not there, let me know.
I'll see if I can talk to him.

[crabmunicator]

If she were to write as much, Karkat wouldn't be one to give her a level-headed opinion. Then again, objectivity is hard to gauge when the cult is one such as it is, and he's a troll from the worse version of their universe. His opinion, in any case, isn't one of no trust.

He's not bitter. You're imagining things.

Nill's smile does well to lift him out of those concerns, at least for a moment. He gives her a look back that isn't really a smile, but holds a grateful warmth beyond his words, at least until she lifts her notebook.

If something happens again and I'm not there, let me know, she tells him. His brows scrunch for it, and he bites his lip.

"I'm going to avoid him if I can. He's obviously got more issues than I care to figure out, and if I hear what past me supposedly did I'd rather not hear it from him." He chews his lip again, thinking. "But when we're stuck in a tower together, let alone for games like these, I'm not even close to knowing what will happen. No use keeping quiet if he does pull shit."

Karkat's feet shift now, tired of being stuck in one place. "I should probably get going now. Talk to me if you learn anything worthwhile from him, yeah?"

[reassures]

Oh, thank goodness. If both Karkat and the Initiate were going to try to avoid each other then it'd probably make her keeping an eye out for them a lot easier in the long run and lessen any chance of something worse happening. If they saw each other both would probably just turn and go the other way. They're both reasonable enough when they don't need to be around each other.

I'll do what I can.
see you later.

[crabmunicator]

One hopes for the best, at least. Karkat's liable to have more reasons not to like the Initiate as time goes on, and while he can avoid someone if he wishes, it's still too early to tell what all will happen.

In the here and now he gives her a quick wave as he turns toward the exit. "Later, Nill," he returns, and then he's on his way.