thecapitol | (OPEN)

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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.)

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The post Arena cooldown is one Dave knows well. After his first Arena, he took himself to bed with several massive bottles of apple juice, bags of doritos and just slept between bouts of video games and stuffing his face. He could train, but like hell he's going to waste time building a physique that'll go away after every cycle. The down months are for eating literally everything and spending time with your friends without worrying about someone whipping around a corner and killing them. Now to mention it's the perfect time to work on his artistic pursuits, something he's been allowing himself to do more of to unwind. Unironically, even.

Dave's shoulders sag when he's addressed, but there's no way he's going to tell Karkat he came to check on him and canonball him to wake him up. He can never know that he's disappointed to have failed on his quest.

"Oh. Oh this is six? I thought it was nine." He jerks a thumb backward and shrugs, stepping forward rather than inviting himself out. He has a small picture of Karkat's face pasted to his pants leg and he doesn't seem to notice as he steps over and starts to put his hands all over everything Karkat owns. "This is a nice room. Mines better though. You should put some posters up in here, get some colour on the walls."

Edited 2015-01-09 08:41 (UTC)

Karkat has the light on low. One of his few customizations is a lamp with a dimmer, which he asked for early in. Humans might need the greater light, but not him, and he scoots over now to turn it brighter for Dave's sake. He doubts the shades help him.

But in general, his room is clean and organized, with even the shoes he had on earlier set neatly to the side of the door. As prone to explosions as chaos as he might be in social areas, his organizational skills are good. Apart from the lamp mentioned earlier, he's got the beginnings to the collection of books - romance novels, of course - stood together on a side table. That's about it just yet.

"Don't even try to pull the bleatbeast fiber over my vision receptors, Strider. You did not think this was your floor. And stop touching my things," he protests, moving from the lamp to swat at Dave's hands. "They don't have posters here that I care about. If I find a worthwhile actor, then maybe then, but I am not putting stuff up for the sake of 'color'."

Honestly, humans always struck him as weird in that department. No appreciation for neutrals, not to the level trolls have.

"But seriously, what do you want? You don't come busting into my block in pajamas in the middle of the night without even knocking and then not give me an answer." His runs his gaze over him, decidedly skeptical, which is when he finally catches a certain irregularity. His eyebrows knit. "Is that my face?"

If Dave acknowledges the change in lighting, it's hard to tell. He sort of vaguely looks around, but he's inspecting Karkat's room anyway so it's no surprise that he's focused elsewhere. There's something unsettling about how Karkat this room is already, even from the few additions he's made. Just like his room probably has a distinct Dave quality. They're settling here, it doesn't take too long.

"You could get posters of me." He says that with the kind of confidence you only hear in a man who knows he'll get shot down for his suggestion and doesn't give a damn.

"I'm here to-" He starts, then Karkat cuts him off and points something out that confuses him. "What? You aren't that ugly, champ." He turns, as if expecting to see a mirror behind him, and turns full circle back to Karkat to quirk a brow at him. He glances down, that's when he notices the little face and peels it off quickly. "Man, I hate it when that happens. Anyway." He tries to push past that conversation and onto other things, so he's just going to step forward and fall straight forward over the end of Karkat's bed.

"No," he shoots out, as immediate and negative as Dave must have expected.

He watches the rest of his little look-around and bed flop with a look halfway between unimpressed and exasperated, and a petty part of him wants to push Dave off the bed for all his indirect refusal to answer. He holds back.

"That doesn't tell me anything, and as priceless and example of human inadequacy your brain continues to make of itself, it stopped being endearing before I even met you." Shuffling over, he climbs up onto his bed to sit cross-legged atop it. If Dave doesn't block him he'll aim a series of pokes to the crown of his head. "Seriously, what the fuck are you doing here? You acted like you didn't expect me to be around, which demands extra answer sprinkles on top of the heaping info sundae I just ordered."

Despite being unaware of Karkat's dark thoughts, Dave is grateful to remain on the bed and not a crumpled mess of pain on the floor. Now that he knows Karkat is here and has officially checked in with him, he's almost getting sleepy. As such, Karkat's first bout of nagging is an incoherent and unimportant haze, but the head poking is what gets his attention.

Dave allows it to pass for a few moments, waiting for Karkat to finish babbling before he whips his hand out to grab Karkat's wrist and jerk it toward himself. He places the crumpled Karkat face in Karkat's hand and lets him go.

"Can't a guy pop in for a visit without all the third degree?" He pushes himself up to sit cross legged as well, shoulders stooped lazily. "Sorry I didn't pencil myself into your calender full of sitting around in bed."

Karkat near jerks his hand away from Dave's when he grabs it, but then there's the stupid face in his hand, and he's free again. His lip curls as he brings it up to look at, then scoots over to dump it in a wastebasket while Dave sits up.

"You didn't even knock, dingus." Trash deposited, he goes back to sit in front of him. "And isn't this a weird time of night for a human to be awake? I just got back earlier, and I've been adjusting to not being dead or disgusting ever since."

And you know, trying to think how to deal with his horrible tangle of emotions about things, but he's not looking to spill those yet.

"Were you waiting for me or something?"

"I don't need to knock, we're best friends. I have a sixth sense for when you take your pants off so I know when I'm not interrupting the rare time of day when you change out of your grey shirt and pants and into your grey pajamas." He doesn't care if that's what Karkat wore or even if it's what he's wearing right now, he's saying it because he can.

"For most humans, maybe. I'm usually up now or later anyway. Figure all the meteor shit and the internet took any chance I had at a normal, human sleeping pattern and fucked it up the ass." And it's true, it wouldn't be the first time Steve or someone found him still awake in the early hours of the morning or asleep in the early afternoon.

"Yeah." He admits, not seeing the point in lying. "I was going to pop in sooner but I got distracted." He casts a glance toward the wastebasket. "With a thing." He adds vaguely. "Sorry I died so early. That was, surprisingly, not on my itinerary."

He is in his pajamas, and they are in fact grey. He didn't intend on going anywhere just yet, so there wasn't much point in dressing otherwise. Besides, after an almost-month of an ugly bodysuit, comfort and casualness make a nice change.

It doesn't stop him from glaring at him.

But the conversation moves on, and the explanation for why he'd be awake makes sense enough, so he lets it pass. All the rest is more important.

Karkat's face loses its skepticism as something more serious slips into its place. Yeah, he was waiting for him. He even lets the 'thing' he was distracted with go without comment, because fuck it, emotions are happening.

"Don't apologize, dude. I don't know how..." Scratch that. He knows how he made it; it was the help of women better than him. "I didn't expect to live as long as I did."

"It boils down to luck, in the end." He admits, because it makes him feel better to do so. He doesn't want to invalidate Karkat, but the truth of it is that there isn't much he could have done to prevent what happened. "Some guy had a grudge against a Mentor who likes me. He took Feferi and I offered him swapsies, got kind of mad when he figured out I was trying to buy time for a clone to show up so he knifed me." He can explain it in almost a detached manner now. There's lingering bitterness, but it feels more like he's summing up a TV show he's particularly invested in. "Guess it counted as heroic, but you never know."

He gives his shoulders a heavy shrug, addressing what Karkat goes on to say. "You aren't dumb and you aren't useless, nobody has a grudge against you and you had supplies. The odds were a little in your favour- once Feferi found you anyway." He wouldn't exactly call getting injured good favour, after all. "How was it? Your first real Arena."

Edited 2015-01-27 12:27 (UTC)

Luck? Karkat looks up, frowning at that line. He doesn't want to call it luck when everything went so shitty and he wound up surviving anyway. Who wants luck that rides on the backs of the dead?

But Dave talks about his own experiences, his own unpleasant end, and it's worse than getting crushed under a bunch of debris. He breathes out slow, not really a sigh, and folds his arms.

"Definitely heroic. You were trying to save Feferi, right? You were trying to do something worthwhile when you died."

He shakes his head after, not necessarily in disagreement, but more from the negative emotion stuck behind it all. "Shitty. I don't know how much you watched if you were waiting for me to come back, but it was stupid at the end. I just got crushed under shit--I don't even know what for. Maybe I stepped on some secret trigger, or that was the special danger that week, or I just got too boring after the drama the week before." He bites his lip on that subject.

"People kept dying because of me," he says quietly. "I fucked up."

Dave isn't sure what to call it anymore. He's made it roughly as far with as much of a body count around him and it only gets worse once you make more friends and watch them die. It's that and the fact that legitimate skill makes no difference when anything could happen.

"I was trying to save both of us, but he left once he stabbed me and stood on my chest like a fat asshole." Which reminds him. "If you see some guy with a weird accent and a curly mustache, don't engage. He's fucking creepy and he will definitely stab you." He chooses to breeze past implication that a heroic death would make him a hero. He was just acting on instinct, that's what it is.

"Uhhh, well. I haven't watched much of it, but I know that's not true. Everyone died this week. I dunno if they meant for it to happen, but the whole Arena broke down. I saw it on the news." He informs him, conveniently not allowing his ego to deflate even if it's not quite what seems to be bothering him.

"If you fall under debris next Arena, though? All bets are off." He clarifies, then he moves on to focus on the next part. "Everyone dies there, Vantas. That's kind of the point. You can't save everyone and the margin for victory is pretty fucking narrow."

"Noted," he says to the warning. He's not going to press the hero angle; it's not important to him, nor the particular direction of the conversation. Dave died, he died, other people died--that much sits the same.

Karkat's eyebrows raise at the next bit. "Wait, seriously? Everyone?" He knows it's not everyone-everyone, but he figures that should get across. If it was just all-but-the-winner, that's still enough for the word.

He goes on to clarify, "That's not what I meant," but he feels too wrung-out to say more. It was hard enough at the time, and he's just spent the past however long wracking his brain for how to approach the people involved.

"I know everyone dies," he says instead, shoulders slumping a little. "And I don't intend to die by debris next time."

"That's what I heard, anyway. I dunno if they figured out the technicalities of who won yet, I'm just pretty sure that wasn't supposed to happen." It feels dangerous even mentioning that, even so much as hinting that there was a fault in the system somewhere seemed like a bad idea. It's awfully suspicious, the way it's being handled, but what's new? It would be stupid not to clarify that much for Karkat, but he's happy to move on.

"I know." He says quickly, if his tone weren't so mild it would sound like he's snapping at Karkat. He hates talking about this, but he hates the feeling that dodging it instills in him. It's like a deep dissatisfaction that grows the more you avoid it.

"It fucking sucks. Watching everyone else go before you and wasting your shot is lame. So is dying early and letting everyone down." He heaves his shoulders in a shrug and moves his foot forward to nudge it against Karkat's knee. "What happened?"

Not supposed to happen is not a mild conjecture, and Karkat keeps his tongue held rather than ask more. He's sure if that's the case, the Capitol will soon have its cover story out to the media. Implicate a scapegoat, turn things the right way--something like that.

Besides, the other topic takes more emotional weight than some fault construction (or whatever it was). Dave has room to talk on this for all the times he's been through, more than him, more trauma, more positions to fail from. He feels guilty almost that he's this messed up about a handful of deaths, but he knows well he can't just drop the guilt for those either. He still carries deaths from the meteor with him, heavy weights piled into the pit of his stomach. He can't put them down now.

He shakes his head, eyes down on Dave's foot. "People died. I fucked up." Biting his lip, he pauses to try to figure out how to put it. "I got attacked, and someone who knew past Karkat ran in and fought the dude and ended up dying. I didn't even know her; she just came out of fucking nowhere and told me to run, and I heard the canon not long after." He thinks of burnt fingers and the face in the stars that formed the fallen.

"Terezi--" He stops, starts again. "Terezi and I ran into each other later, and the systems went out on us. Gravity, air, that shit. She pushed me through the door, but when I tried to pull her with me she--her arm got stuck--the door closed on it." And she died, he doesn't finish, because it has to be obvious.

He remembers still: all the teal, shouting at the door, not being able to do a damn thing and not knowing which alternate thing he should have done to not fuck up.

"After that... I found Nill eventually. And it was fine for a while. But eventually we ran into a monster, this big, black horror of a thing, and it stabbed her in the side with its tail. Which I thought couldn't be that bad? Jack stabbed me a bunch in Sgrub and I was just fine. I helped her tie a rope around it so it wouldn't bleed too much, which was the best we had, and we kept going... But it, I don't know, it got worse, until she couldn't walk anymore, until it was just going to keep getting worse until she died. She..." Memories of arguing flash back to mind, stay or go, not wanting to leave her. It's superfluous, in the end. "I ended up staying with her to wait it out, but it wasn't... it wasn't going to be quick, you know? I don't know how long it would have taken. She didn't know. And it was just so fucking unfair, and I... after a while, it was like... if she was going to die anyway, if she was just going to keep hurting, why draw it out?"

He sniffs. Dave may see the red gathering in his eyes, but he wipes it away and says quick and plain, "I killed her. We talked and we reached an understanding and I killed her."

Edited (DONE NOW promise) 2015-02-01 07:14 (UTC)

People died, I fucked up could be the blurb for this place. It resonates with Dave enough for him to grimace in response. He keeps himself quiet while Karkat vents, letting him summarise his Arena for him. It's all familiar stuff, and it's a painful process watching someone he knows as well as Karkat suffer through everything.

"Right, well all of that fucking sucks. You really hit the ground running this round, huh?" He sympathises, reaching out gingerly to give Karkat's knee a light pet. "The thing is, though. None of that sounds like your fault. You didn't fuck up, they didn't fuck up. I mean, it doesn't invalidate feeling bad because anyone would feel like hell after going through it. It's just that pinning all of this shit on yourself can and will weigh on you." He gives Karkat's knee a poke, just to sell his point. "You start giving yourself away that easy and there'll be nothing left. Nill is back, Terezi is back. You did what you had to do, but you're gonna have to keep doing it."

It would sounds dismissive if not for the overall tone. Karkat looks up, no happier, doubt still clinging to his eyes. "But I did fuck up. I let my guard down with the first dude and I know it. If I'd done something different with Terezi she wouldn't have had to die with her arm chopped off like that. And if I fought harder Nill wouldn't have gotten stabbed. Of course it's going to weigh on me--it already is, but I can't just set it down like it's not important."

Which is likely not what Dave means, and he knows that somewhere in him, but he's not practiced in letting these things go. He missed even the murderers on his team years later, blamed himself for things he didn't remotely cause, and now he has deaths like this to deal with.

He rubs at his face again, full-handed this time. "I know I'm going to have to keep doing it. Just like the rest of you. It's just hard."

"Karkat." Dave starts, and then he reaches forward to grab the other troll's face so he can make eye contact.. through his shades. It's mostly to sell the severity of his opinion so Karkat knows he isn't fucking around. "This is going to happen every Arena. That doesn't make it unimportant, but it means you need to learn to prioritise the shit feelings a little. The longer you focus on shit you can't change, the less you focus on shit you can work on." He gives his head a little jostle before he drops his hands, moving to turn and flop so he's lying in front of Karkat again.

"Math is hard, this is impossible." He admits, and he's at a loss for what to say for a long moment before he pipes up again. "If you want to train together, we can train together. It doesn't really teach you how to cope with variables, but it keeps your reflexes sharp."

Karkat does look, but he tenses and his eyes go notably wide. When he's not the one demanding unambiguously platonic back-of-the-hand face touches it's a pretty surprising thing, made more so when it wasn't his idea at all. And it's the context: this isn't just trying to see if his weird dream ghost self is solid and tangible, but an effort at comforting him and making him stop being stupid about emotions. The jostle might not be a pap, but it's disorienting all the same. He keeps staring for a good moment after.

"Dave, hands." He heard what he said and he's not ignoring that, though there's not much he can do for it right now beyond stopping his verbal lingering. "You just stumbled prong-first into awkward cultural differences and you probably don't even realize it. Just keep the hands back when doing the you're-being-emotionally-stupid thing."

He swallows. Dave did say other things.

"Training--that would be fine. It can't hurt to learn new skills, or the thing you said. Reflexes, that stuff."

Look, affectionate gestures don't come often or naturally for Dave. If he's going to be dramatic to make a point, it's got to be layers of ironic and weird for him to feel truly comfortable with it. Truthfully, he didn't watch many pale interactions between trolls and has no idea why a face touch would ever be considered some social faux pas. Didn't Karkat ask him to touch his face? Was he hitting on him? Does context matter?

He thinks all of this with his hands still fixed on Karkat's face, but eventually he pulls back. "You made it weird." He mutters under his breath, folding his hands over his lap.

"You'll get better." He assures. "It won't, but you will. It's a literal minefield of character development here, you can't take two steps without blowing your leg off and learning something from it." It was a violent metaphor to use, but he feels like it's relevant and true enough.

That was different, context does matter, and he wasn't hitting on him! A part of him wants to snap for the mutter, but he's still getting over everything and doesn't have the energy for a stupid, pointless argument the way he might normally. He settles for an ugh-toned sigh.

He follows with a half-assed laugh.

"I broke my leg at the start. That tribute at the Cornucopia--my leg got caught on something, and they snapped it pretty bad." Before he hadn't wanted to talk about it, but now it's removed and easier for it. "Tell me, what did I learn there besides 'ow, my fucking leg'?"

His tone is lighter than it could be, though, almost joking instead of the harsh bitterness he turned on him the last time Dave got flippant about things.

"That Feferi is powerful and terrifying and we should all respect her magical cut and paste healing skills. Also that even when you're at your most useless, there's problem someone less useless who likes you enough to help you out."

The change of tone is noted and Dave is glad for it. He won't push his luck too much, though, so he gives Karkat's leg a pat as if to silently indicate that he's done with that and moves along the end of the bed so he can flop alongside Karkat to sprawl on his half of the bed.

"The eyes are tired but the brain is resistant." He murmurs, assuming Karkat will understand.

"Mm."

People who will help him--yeah, he got plenty of that. More than he feels he deserved, but he got it just the same, and it would be a repeat to say much about it. Besides, things have calmed, and a part of him wants to keep it that way. He's sure he'll have time enough to feel sick and sorry again in other times and when he talks to those who died around him.

"Yeah," he says to the second thing, then lays back himself, not a flop but slow and easy. He folds his hands over his abdomen. "I think I'm done talking about it for now. You want to just chill here for a while?" He glances over. He's got nothing in mind, but even that--just sitting around doing nothing, because they don't have to worry about death or fighting or hiding or anything--is highly appealing right now.

Dave doesn't expect instant results from the peptalk, because he knows it's a lot to mull over. The answer seems so simple when you're on the other side of things with months of experiences, but he remembers the struggle of his first few months and he remembers it with bitterness. If he had Karkat, the way he is now, maybe things would have been better. Or maybe, for some ungodly reason, it worked out better for him to go out and make friends and be the one to help Karkat through it.

He doesn't want to think much on being his spirit guide, so he hums approvingly in response to just about everything Karkat says. "Fuck walking." He spits out, which is as good as a yes from Dave. He nestles his head a little more comfortably over the crook of his arms, watching Karkat from his side of the bed.

He's glad he's here, and he hates thinking it, but it's true. It means a lot to have a real, tangible Karkat lying across from him. Years ago he would spittake at the idea of being happy to see him, but now he can doze off into a peaceful catnap with stupid, corny and all around safe feeling of having someone he trusts more than anyone at an arm's reach. That shit is valuable.

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that icon is adorable

pouty mcredeyes

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