Karkat Vantas ♋ carcinoGeneticist (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crabmunicator) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-01-04 09:33 am
crabmunicator) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-04 09:33 am
(OPEN)
Who| Karkat and whoever runs into him
What| Dealing with aftermath of the arena and adjusting back to Capitol life.
Where| Out in the Capitol, on the training floor, in district 6, or bugging specific people.
When| During the first week post-arena.
Warnings/Notes| Possible description of gore and death, but not likely to come up in most threads. Otherwise just Karkat's foul mouth.
A. The Capitol
The thing about fighting in a real arena is that now Karkat has fans. Sure, some people still held their interest after whatever antics his past self had gotten up to, but it's now that he's had a real turn of his own - not the short, lackluster experience of the mini-arena - that he's proved his own worth an object of entertainment. And he hates it. After enough of getting stopped in the street or gossiped over by chatty Capitolites, Karkat has decided enough is enough and fetched himself a hooded coat. It's one of the rare few times in his life he's ever been glad to have small horns; he can yank the hood up over them no problem, hiding the flash of orange that's drawn too many eyes.
The trouble is, small horns doesn't mean no horns, and trudging around with two lumps poking his hood tends to draw attention regardless. Besides, he can't exactly hide his grey skin. But still he tries, skulking around to cafes or a particular bakery he's grown fond of, or just along the streets for fresh air and the chance to stretch his admittedly short legs. It's better to be out and about than cooped up inside, and one might find him wandering night or day now that the curfew's been lifted.
B. The Training Center
When he is in the tower, however, Karkat often finds himself down in the actual training center the place gets its name from. Much of his time in the arena was spent making the best of the pocket knife he got from the arena, and while his skills were inept and amateurish, he adapted well enough that he figures it best not to lose what little he learned. For all he knows, he might end up stuck with only a knife to his name in the future.
To that end, he takes a blade and goes at the training dumbies, testing moves and trying to remember the flow of fights he had before. It's weird when the target isn't moving (or trying to kill him), but it's the best he has available.
Other times, not wanting to lose his old skills either, he trades the knife out for the more familiar shape of a sickle. With this he is methodical and practiced, tracing over old moves - none professional or trained, but speaking of experience nonetheless.
C. District Six
But when the Capitol at large or training calls him, Karkat eventually wends his way back to his district. With the curfew gone sometime between entering and exiting the arena, the place feels less stifling to stay in. There's a TV and games, and much as he did on the nights stuck here, he pulls up something inane to take out frustrations and take up his time. RPG, FPS, fighting game, whatever--so long as a target is offered for him to mash the right buttons at, he's content to give it a shot.
D. Around the Tower/Wherever (closed to certain CR)
Lastly, Karkat has loose ends to tie up: people to check up on, friends to talk to, or even a stranger to learn more about. If he knew what floor he could find them on, he might go and knock at a door with an "Are you there?" called through. Other times, he'd be just as apt to stop someone in a hall or on the street if he ran into them. Regardless, he's intent on talking to them sooner or later.
(OOC: Karkat would want to talk to Nill, Terezi, Dave, the Initiate, the Signless, and Shepard post arena. Feel free to have him run into your character wherever, or feel free to contact me if you want to arrange something specific.)
What| Dealing with aftermath of the arena and adjusting back to Capitol life.
Where| Out in the Capitol, on the training floor, in district 6, or bugging specific people.
When| During the first week post-arena.
Warnings/Notes| Possible description of gore and death, but not likely to come up in most threads. Otherwise just Karkat's foul mouth.
A. The Capitol
The thing about fighting in a real arena is that now Karkat has fans. Sure, some people still held their interest after whatever antics his past self had gotten up to, but it's now that he's had a real turn of his own - not the short, lackluster experience of the mini-arena - that he's proved his own worth an object of entertainment. And he hates it. After enough of getting stopped in the street or gossiped over by chatty Capitolites, Karkat has decided enough is enough and fetched himself a hooded coat. It's one of the rare few times in his life he's ever been glad to have small horns; he can yank the hood up over them no problem, hiding the flash of orange that's drawn too many eyes.
The trouble is, small horns doesn't mean no horns, and trudging around with two lumps poking his hood tends to draw attention regardless. Besides, he can't exactly hide his grey skin. But still he tries, skulking around to cafes or a particular bakery he's grown fond of, or just along the streets for fresh air and the chance to stretch his admittedly short legs. It's better to be out and about than cooped up inside, and one might find him wandering night or day now that the curfew's been lifted.
B. The Training Center
When he is in the tower, however, Karkat often finds himself down in the actual training center the place gets its name from. Much of his time in the arena was spent making the best of the pocket knife he got from the arena, and while his skills were inept and amateurish, he adapted well enough that he figures it best not to lose what little he learned. For all he knows, he might end up stuck with only a knife to his name in the future.
To that end, he takes a blade and goes at the training dumbies, testing moves and trying to remember the flow of fights he had before. It's weird when the target isn't moving (or trying to kill him), but it's the best he has available.
Other times, not wanting to lose his old skills either, he trades the knife out for the more familiar shape of a sickle. With this he is methodical and practiced, tracing over old moves - none professional or trained, but speaking of experience nonetheless.
C. District Six
But when the Capitol at large or training calls him, Karkat eventually wends his way back to his district. With the curfew gone sometime between entering and exiting the arena, the place feels less stifling to stay in. There's a TV and games, and much as he did on the nights stuck here, he pulls up something inane to take out frustrations and take up his time. RPG, FPS, fighting game, whatever--so long as a target is offered for him to mash the right buttons at, he's content to give it a shot.
D. Around the Tower/Wherever (closed to certain CR)
Lastly, Karkat has loose ends to tie up: people to check up on, friends to talk to, or even a stranger to learn more about. If he knew what floor he could find them on, he might go and knock at a door with an "Are you there?" called through. Other times, he'd be just as apt to stop someone in a hall or on the street if he ran into them. Regardless, he's intent on talking to them sooner or later.
(OOC: Karkat would want to talk to Nill, Terezi, Dave, the Initiate, the Signless, and Shepard post arena. Feel free to have him run into your character wherever, or feel free to contact me if you want to arrange something specific.)
no subject
On the other hand, his moirail is out of the arenas, safe from that guaranteed eventuality as comes of all those tributes what go in and hope to come out. It's just as unbelievable as it was a week ago, when as he screamed at a television screen. Also, his horns were back.
And so there would lie the neutral ground to stand upon, and does now as he turns around in the hallway to raise a brow at Karkat. Had he known Karkat was going room to room, he might have counted himself lucky for being out away from Terezi's just in time to avoid the inevitable drawing out of another's motherfucking opinions on their matespritship.
"SUP?"
FINALLY HITS THIS now that the end of the other seems more certain
But that's not why he's stopped him.
The Initiate's greeting is just casual enough that he's not sure what to make of it. Things are tense. They went from wall-slamming to secret-sharing to weird mind control shit to cover for the cameras. It's not remotely a normal progression, and it leaves him uncertain of what's to come, or what it means taken together now that they're out of the arena.
So rather than wonder alone, he says, "I want to know where we stand with each other now."
No aggression. No presumption. It's an honest question, even if not grammatically phrased as one.
no subject
"In a motherfucking hallbit looks like. ALL UP OF THE INBETWEENS BEING OF ENCLOSED CAPACITIES DOMICILE."
He knows what Karkat means. Perhaps he ought not play. Too late now.
He shrugs his shoulders and fold his arms up over his chest. "I don't motherfucking know, yo. WHERE ALL IS YOU FEELING AT?"
no subject
"That's not what I meant, you literalistic puddle of sugar vomit, and you know it." Still, the joke cuts away some of the tension, visible as his shoulders resettle. The more honest answer helps. "How should I know? I'm the one who asked. I'm guessing you're less likely to pick me up and slam my torso column into the nearest solid plane, considering your lack of instant disgust for my presence. Or should I call Nill in to pre-mediate my inevitable crippling spinal injury?"
It's a little too serious to be a joke, but enough sarcasm is threaded through that it's plain he's not expecting him to lash out. He turns a little calmer after, not quite somber; Nill is, in retrospect, not the easiest thought right now.
"I'm not going to go reporting you to the medicullers as the newest victim of the virulent disease called friendship, if that's what you're asking. I just want to know if we're..." His hand motions vaguely between them. "Alright."
no subject
He'd like Nill dealing with that no more than Karkat does.
"Can only get as knowing what things I'm at to thinking up on it. ONLY WHAT THOUGHTS MINE CAN BE BEING KNOWN BY THIS MOTHERFUCKER."
But for all that, he does ponder. All about the pondering he gets at to do.
Finally he shrugs and says plainly, "Took a motherfucker by surprise. THOUGHT AS LIKE IT RESURRECTING A PAST GONE AND DEAD. But that ain't being the case so, yeah, sure, it's chill. JUST WANT AS TO SEE TEREZI BEING HAPPY." And that is followed up with another shrug, like it's not as big a deal as it really is.
no subject
"Yeah," he says, tone moved a little more in the direction it was on. "I have precisely zero interest digging up past mess I don't even remember. You don't start shit, I don't start shit, and we all tolerate each other as befits the situation." He waves a hand again, this one outward. "There's enough going on without us building onto it."
no subject
Except...
"COULD BE WORTH TALKING TO TEREZI AT ON THOUGH," He points out. "She don't blame you for no pasts, as what's all indicative by my motherfucking getting truce up and on. BUT SHE WAS STILL HURT. She don't open up on her own, yo. MIGHT BE WORTHWHILE. She misses her friend."
But then he shrugs, like it ain't no big deal. Was up to Karkat, on that noise.
no subject
Karkat's lips go tight. On the one hand, he did talk to Terezi about things some when he ran into her in the arena - about what past him did and about him and the Initiate righting things between them. They made that right. But that doesn't mean he shouldn't go and talk to her, or that they lack things to discuss. He could tell her about this, for one, though it's not the main thing on his mind.
"... Yeah," he says, a step or two behind the beat. "I should."
His posture is conspicuously not anything like a comfortable slouch, but he offers no explanation, and does not look for being asked.
"So--we're on good terms, or as good as can be asked between a clown cultist and a foulmouthed walking headache." He waves a little, catches himself, stops, and puts his hand down. "Not to be a douchebag, but I've got shit I should go figure out. Now that I'm not dead and other people aren't either. I'll see you around, right?"
no subject
He even catches the way Karkat's hand stops in mid-air. Huh. Motherfucker really was being at to try. He doesn't comment, for really, he's not sure what as he would say for such things.
But it's remembered. All gone noted with surprise and tucked the fuck away.
"MEGRIMIRTHFULS PLACID ALL UP IN THIS? Sure fucking thing. CARRY THE FUCK ON WITH YOUR BAD SELF, VANTAS."
no subject
"Well, right, whatever. Later, Makara--and it's either that or I keep mispronouncing your first as Carlos," he says as he turns. He does wave this time, but it's less the shoo-off motion he stopped himself from than an actual goodbye.
no subject
It only sinks in later; ain't no thing illusory being up about Karkat that he's anything but Kurloz.
Which all meant he really was saying Carlos on motherfucking purpose, that fucker.