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
It takes a moment because it hardly feels important, but when it clicks his eyebrows fail to unbunch. "Calm down, would you? I just said I owe you a shitton of favors, and you get on my case for an indirect reference? I'm saying then you were just some chick I didn't know, and it's not like I had time to ask then, is it?"
By the end he's frowning pretty plainly.
"I'm not just going to call you 'chick' now, Shepard. I didn't want you to die fighting that guy for me, and I'm sorry you did, but give me some credit here."
no subject
Slight emphasis on the last. He's not even shorter than her, really-- but then, Shepard's a product of her misspent youth. From what she knows of Karkat's world, the same is true of him. But the mutant thing never really made sense, to her.
Have a casual little bop with a water-bottle for your trouble, shorty.
"Wait, is this supposed to be some kind of gratitude thing?"
no subject
"Oh my god," he bitches. "It was one thing. One little thing, one offhand reference, in a context that suited it just fine, and your underwear has made a cannon ball dive right up your waste chute. I'm sorry to Shepard for calling Shepard anything but Shepard in any Shepard context, because clearly I've been nothing but disreShepardful!"
Sometime during the little vent, his arms have flung up into aggravated gestures. With one last downward flop, he finishes, "Yes, this was supposed to be a gratitude thing. Gratitude and remorse because I didn't want anyone dying for me, much less a Shepard I didn't even know from my perspective."
no subject
And Shepard had seen some tantrums in her time, so she should know. You haven't lived until you've seen a Reaper, two kilometers long if it was an inch, who'd chosen to spend its last moments on this mortal coil whining about the insignificance of the human lives that had just ended its own.
"...'DisreShepardful'?" That bit, she wants that on a shirt, with a hat to match. That was poetry, "I like it."
A laser-like focus on the important things, is what she's got.
"Listen, I know you don't remember, but I did promise I'd look out for you, you little shit. And I meant it. So, if you don't want anyone dying for you, I can help you get better, but..."
no subject
"But what?" he asks. The phrasing is a completely obvious piece of bait, but he does wonder and doesn't feel like being difficult after the rest. Besides, it certainly couldn't hurt for him to become more capable.
no subject
Terezi's exact words had been, You know that's going to gaurantee he'll never show up, right? but eh. Semantics.
"You could be decent, if somebody takes an interest in you. Or you could just keep doing," she shrugged, gesturing in vague circles to indicate his current regime, "...whatever you're doing now."
no subject
"Yes, just casually offer training to a guy while doubting he even cares. That really makes me think you have faith in me, Shepard," he snaps. "And for your information, I got my hands on a knife last time and managed okay when there weren't things like actual fire coming my way. The Signless told me I'm not likely to find sickles in the arena, so I've been trying to learn how to use them instead."
He might boast more of how far he made it, but there's still enough guilt weighing on him of others who died along the way, and of times where he was close enough to dying that without help he would have been taken out early. He nearly died at the Cornucopia; if not for Feferi, he absolutely would have.
I'm sorry, this took a frikkin eternity
"So can you handle what I dish out, or... I mean, feel free to prove me right, if you're all that offended."
no subject
"Teach me," he says, sharp but serious. "If you have something worth learning, then that's what I'm here for."