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thecapitol2015-01-20 10:58 pm
etcircenses) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-20 10:58 pm
Entry tags:
- aang,
- albert heinrich,
- daryl dixon,
- event: crowning,
- felicity yoshida,
- firo prochainezo,
- haruto soma,
- jason compson iv,
- karkat vantas,
- kousuke nitou,
- linden lockhearst (l),
- phillip gray,
- porrim maryam,
- rick grimes,
- roland deschain,
- sam wilson,
- sigma klim,
- swann honeymead,
- the grand highblood,
- the signless,
- wesker,
- ✘ arya stark,
- ✘ brock samson,
- ✘ bruce banner,
- ✘ dandy mott,
- ✘ dave strider,
- ✘ dorian pavus,
- ✘ eponine thenardier,
- ✘ feferi peixes,
- ✘ gary epps,
- ✘ holly day,
- ✘ jack sparrow,
- ✘ jane,
- ✘ jolie,
- ✘ luke,
- ✘ maxwell trevelyan,
- ✘ milla vodello,
- ✘ nill,
- ✘ piers nivans,
- ✘ tess,
- ✘ the iron bull,
- ✘ thorin oakenshield,
- ✘ venus dee milo
The Crowning Of The Signless
Who| Everyone.
What| The Crowning of The Signless.
Where| An alcove in a nearby mountain.
When| From dusk to dawn, on Thursday.
Warnings/Notes| This event is mandatory for all Tributes to attend. Even if you do not tag in, your character will attend this party. Peacekeepers will be on high alert. There will be no chance to runaway.
Tributes are encouraged to sleep all during the day, before the crowning. The reason for this is revealed when they are roused at sundown and brought to the closest mountain to the city, where they are greeted by an alcove within the moutainside that has been carved into a temple to what may be an illicit faith. The stone alcove is dim-lit by candles arranged along walls and by what appears to be altars set before iron cancer signs, some plain, some inlet with intricate carvings. Bright red drapery hangs about the room, tapestries with the cancer sign and cirles of blending color spectrum. There are also some waist high leggings hung upon one wall. In the center of the room, shackles hang, glowing bright from some sort of internal heat and light. A hole in the ceiling is set on each side of it, to allow the smoke to escape from the great bonfire that roars beneath it. If one takes a seat upon any of large stones and logs aranged around it, they can see both the stars twinkling down and the way the smoke looks as though it is coming off the shackles.
The only windows otherwise are made from stained glass depicting images from the Signless's life, such as his rescue by "Alternia's First Mother" (so described on the metal plate below), "The Recording of His Teachings" depicting The Disciple writing the Signless's words into a book, "A New Follower" showing the Psiioniic joining the Signless, a boat deemed "The First Ship", and "The Execution" which features the death of the Signless before thousands of followers, a fifth troll- resembling Terezi- bearing the shackles as a necklace and another with great brown wings, a single window of Karkat and Kankri Vantas, as well as a sinister depiction of six indistinct shadowy figures of cerulean, blue, indigo, violet, tyrian, and maroon. Cave-style paintings cover the stone walls, styles ranging from simple scribbled etching to circles featuring twelve colors in circle, with bright red at the center, and yet more elaborate shadowy depictions of those in the stained glass, esepcially the Signless himself, both prior and following his execution.
But not all is dedicated to the Signless and his old posse of biblical age trolls. A shrine has been set up for redeemed and then so quickly lost victor, Matthew 'Punchy' O'Conner. Punchy has been painted upon a cave wall like he fits right into the theme. Upon his shrine lay all varieties of bling; Bling-jewelery, a bling goblet, bling boxing gloves, a hoodie, a nun habit, and a stone with a memorial rap engraved atop-- with bling, of course, all shimmering by the spotlights placed before the shrine. Refillable 40 oz bottles are lain out so that sorrowful guests, wishing to pay their respect to the boy so cruelly slain by rebels when he had turned from them, can pour one out in his honor.
Marius is also honored there with a tea light and small framed photograph set upon an empty table with an empty chair, along with souvenir versions of his and Cosette's wedding rings that guests can take home. Beneath all these rings is a photoshopped picture of javert with a single tear running down his manly face.
The only seating besides the stones and logs and Marius's single chair, are those that are sat at a table at the end of the room. Each is draped in a different color, six on each side for each district and each blood hue-- presumably of the Victor's choosing. Between these chairs sits yet one more with a tall back like a flogging jut that got the redesigned at the base to make a throne that some trolls might recognize as belonging to the Empress. The arms of the chair feature open shackles. The throne is decorated in chains of gold and jewels of all colors. The victor is given a crown of gilded flowers and thorns on chain.
Food can be found upon the altars or the victor's table, in surplus. Alternian delicacies are served, featuring insects, flavored or plain, and food made from insects. Guests may find a giant beetle being served upon a spit roast. Even the meats appear to be topped with bugs. The cakes, marshmallows (which can be roasted with stick by the fire!), and orange creamsicles may be the only things truly bug-free. Drink options are water, wine, and soda.
Stylists are encouraged to dress their tributes primarily in black, with a single bit of color put into the design matched according to district (with exception to trolls), or any manner of draping fabrics, cloaks, and costumery reminiscent of religious iconagraphy that one might expect of ancient aliens. Waist high pants and leggings are also in high regard, as well as fake horn, fangs, contacts, and anything to make guests look more trollish. The only rule is for the main colors to match to the blood assignment.
The music playing is the sort one might expect from a church, featuring mournful vocals, soft bells and melodies, and of course, organ music. But for one or two jarring differences. Where this music is coming from remains a mystery but since the space is open and clear, guests have plenty of room for dancing.
Those who don't wish to dance can talk and regale tales around the bonfire, or may instead seek out the book of "scripture" at one of the altars that features nothing more than various parables- with names that Tributes might recognize! Each Tribute has one parable contained within, telling a tale in flourished manner of a part of their life, featuring a pro-capitol moral at the end.
Elsewhere, are models of the flogging just, where guests can put their hands through the oversized cuffs and pretend to writhe in agony, an Alternian bioware helm where guests too can pretend to have their lifeforce and power used a battery for the sake of the Alternian empire, a dress-up station where guests can customize their appearance to match trolls sold into gruelling slavery to seadwellwers, and an area designed to look like a cave with extensive "Alternian" (gibberish) writings of the Signless's words, where guests too can pretend they've lost everyone they love and are carrying on their legacy by writing upon the walls and leaving their own messages of love and mourning. Not to mention, a life-sized drone with realistic piercing claws, for all your picture posing needs.
A sandpit lies just around a corner for children to make castles, dig trenches, and act out games of pretending they've trekked thousands of miles through zombie infested desert just to speak to a couple of people! Guests can also meet a "mutantblood lusus" a four-eyed crab creature with lizardlike structure-- only sized no bigger than the average dog and perhaps about as intelligent. Guests are warned not to put their hand too close, lest the claw pincers manage to pinch them.
Late into the crowning, everyone is brought out to the dark mountainside, well monitored by peacekeepers, and divided into teams. Everyone is given belts with velcro flags attached, colored according to the "blood" they were matched with by district. Those in the eighth, ninth, twelfth, third, tenth, and eleventh districts are deemed the "lowbloods. Those in the first, fourth, second, fifth, sixth, and seventh districts, are deemed the "highbloods". Each team is given a velcro board to attach the flags to. The first team to lose all their flags loses, winners getting tiny necklace copies of the shackles. The last one standing with a flag wins a larger necklace copy and the option to get it redesigned into a symbol of their choosing.
If you failed not to be "culled", fear not! All tributes receive a participation sticker at the end. This sticker features a number. It is not indicative of districts or of age, as will be announced shortly, but of the new scoring. These will be announced for everyone to hear- and pick out targets from.
The crowning officially ends with the coming dawn. And so begins, to everyone's surprise, preparation for the arena. Tributes will be going right from the crowning off to the Tribute launch tubes. Happy Hunger Games!
[Note: This is ICly on Thursday! Just before the arena on Friday!]
What| The Crowning of The Signless.
Where| An alcove in a nearby mountain.
When| From dusk to dawn, on Thursday.
Warnings/Notes| This event is mandatory for all Tributes to attend. Even if you do not tag in, your character will attend this party. Peacekeepers will be on high alert. There will be no chance to runaway.
Tributes are encouraged to sleep all during the day, before the crowning. The reason for this is revealed when they are roused at sundown and brought to the closest mountain to the city, where they are greeted by an alcove within the moutainside that has been carved into a temple to what may be an illicit faith. The stone alcove is dim-lit by candles arranged along walls and by what appears to be altars set before iron cancer signs, some plain, some inlet with intricate carvings. Bright red drapery hangs about the room, tapestries with the cancer sign and cirles of blending color spectrum. There are also some waist high leggings hung upon one wall. In the center of the room, shackles hang, glowing bright from some sort of internal heat and light. A hole in the ceiling is set on each side of it, to allow the smoke to escape from the great bonfire that roars beneath it. If one takes a seat upon any of large stones and logs aranged around it, they can see both the stars twinkling down and the way the smoke looks as though it is coming off the shackles.
The only windows otherwise are made from stained glass depicting images from the Signless's life, such as his rescue by "Alternia's First Mother" (so described on the metal plate below), "The Recording of His Teachings" depicting The Disciple writing the Signless's words into a book, "A New Follower" showing the Psiioniic joining the Signless, a boat deemed "The First Ship", and "The Execution" which features the death of the Signless before thousands of followers, a fifth troll- resembling Terezi- bearing the shackles as a necklace and another with great brown wings, a single window of Karkat and Kankri Vantas, as well as a sinister depiction of six indistinct shadowy figures of cerulean, blue, indigo, violet, tyrian, and maroon. Cave-style paintings cover the stone walls, styles ranging from simple scribbled etching to circles featuring twelve colors in circle, with bright red at the center, and yet more elaborate shadowy depictions of those in the stained glass, esepcially the Signless himself, both prior and following his execution.
But not all is dedicated to the Signless and his old posse of biblical age trolls. A shrine has been set up for redeemed and then so quickly lost victor, Matthew 'Punchy' O'Conner. Punchy has been painted upon a cave wall like he fits right into the theme. Upon his shrine lay all varieties of bling; Bling-jewelery, a bling goblet, bling boxing gloves, a hoodie, a nun habit, and a stone with a memorial rap engraved atop-- with bling, of course, all shimmering by the spotlights placed before the shrine. Refillable 40 oz bottles are lain out so that sorrowful guests, wishing to pay their respect to the boy so cruelly slain by rebels when he had turned from them, can pour one out in his honor.
Marius is also honored there with a tea light and small framed photograph set upon an empty table with an empty chair, along with souvenir versions of his and Cosette's wedding rings that guests can take home. Beneath all these rings is a photoshopped picture of javert with a single tear running down his manly face.
The only seating besides the stones and logs and Marius's single chair, are those that are sat at a table at the end of the room. Each is draped in a different color, six on each side for each district and each blood hue-- presumably of the Victor's choosing. Between these chairs sits yet one more with a tall back like a flogging jut that got the redesigned at the base to make a throne that some trolls might recognize as belonging to the Empress. The arms of the chair feature open shackles. The throne is decorated in chains of gold and jewels of all colors. The victor is given a crown of gilded flowers and thorns on chain.
Food can be found upon the altars or the victor's table, in surplus. Alternian delicacies are served, featuring insects, flavored or plain, and food made from insects. Guests may find a giant beetle being served upon a spit roast. Even the meats appear to be topped with bugs. The cakes, marshmallows (which can be roasted with stick by the fire!), and orange creamsicles may be the only things truly bug-free. Drink options are water, wine, and soda.
Stylists are encouraged to dress their tributes primarily in black, with a single bit of color put into the design matched according to district (with exception to trolls), or any manner of draping fabrics, cloaks, and costumery reminiscent of religious iconagraphy that one might expect of ancient aliens. Waist high pants and leggings are also in high regard, as well as fake horn, fangs, contacts, and anything to make guests look more trollish. The only rule is for the main colors to match to the blood assignment.
The music playing is the sort one might expect from a church, featuring mournful vocals, soft bells and melodies, and of course, organ music. But for one or two jarring differences. Where this music is coming from remains a mystery but since the space is open and clear, guests have plenty of room for dancing.
Those who don't wish to dance can talk and regale tales around the bonfire, or may instead seek out the book of "scripture" at one of the altars that features nothing more than various parables- with names that Tributes might recognize! Each Tribute has one parable contained within, telling a tale in flourished manner of a part of their life, featuring a pro-capitol moral at the end.
Elsewhere, are models of the flogging just, where guests can put their hands through the oversized cuffs and pretend to writhe in agony, an Alternian bioware helm where guests too can pretend to have their lifeforce and power used a battery for the sake of the Alternian empire, a dress-up station where guests can customize their appearance to match trolls sold into gruelling slavery to seadwellwers, and an area designed to look like a cave with extensive "Alternian" (gibberish) writings of the Signless's words, where guests too can pretend they've lost everyone they love and are carrying on their legacy by writing upon the walls and leaving their own messages of love and mourning. Not to mention, a life-sized drone with realistic piercing claws, for all your picture posing needs.
A sandpit lies just around a corner for children to make castles, dig trenches, and act out games of pretending they've trekked thousands of miles through zombie infested desert just to speak to a couple of people! Guests can also meet a "mutantblood lusus" a four-eyed crab creature with lizardlike structure-- only sized no bigger than the average dog and perhaps about as intelligent. Guests are warned not to put their hand too close, lest the claw pincers manage to pinch them.
Late into the crowning, everyone is brought out to the dark mountainside, well monitored by peacekeepers, and divided into teams. Everyone is given belts with velcro flags attached, colored according to the "blood" they were matched with by district. Those in the eighth, ninth, twelfth, third, tenth, and eleventh districts are deemed the "lowbloods. Those in the first, fourth, second, fifth, sixth, and seventh districts, are deemed the "highbloods". Each team is given a velcro board to attach the flags to. The first team to lose all their flags loses, winners getting tiny necklace copies of the shackles. The last one standing with a flag wins a larger necklace copy and the option to get it redesigned into a symbol of their choosing.
If you failed not to be "culled", fear not! All tributes receive a participation sticker at the end. This sticker features a number. It is not indicative of districts or of age, as will be announced shortly, but of the new scoring. These will be announced for everyone to hear- and pick out targets from.
The crowning officially ends with the coming dawn. And so begins, to everyone's surprise, preparation for the arena. Tributes will be going right from the crowning off to the Tribute launch tubes. Happy Hunger Games!
[Note: This is ICly on Thursday! Just before the arena on Friday!]
no subject
"TRUTH PREACHED LEGIT, VANTAS, WOULDN'T BE ALL THAT DAMN SURPRISED IF ALL THEY WAS." They'd apparently made jewellery of the torture implements after all. Marked themselves laterways by the cruelty done. No, he would not be surprised by fires with irons up in the least.
"But just as motherfucking well." He seats himself down upon one of the stones. "WAS ALL A SORTS OF TERROR-TIED." He taps an empty stone beside his ownself. And then he begins to regale.
"HE'D PREFER SEAT NEITHER HIGHER NOR LOWER, BUT AT HEIGHT LEVEL AS TO WHAT COULD BE. Of course, exceptions got being had, but always he'd aim as to see that all and every motherfucker got being on even ground. HE'D TELL TALES OF THOSE HE'D MEET AND HAD MET. He'd try for attentive, but his stubbornness made for him seeing threat only following mine or others notice. THEY'D BE ANYWHERE. Arranged by word of mouth at to meet by what got being told time before. CLIFFS BEING BEACHSIDE WAS A FAVOURITE, ANYTHING WHAT ALL HELD AIR OPEN." He breathes deep, like he can smell the seaside more all than he can the ash and burn before him. He remembers the single wilting tree, stunted for whatever reason, yet still beautiful. He remembers the exact shape of the stone there. The texture all under his fingertips. For a moment, he can feel cool breeze instead of hot flame.
"The later ones," He continues, "when all they got to happen by their own, without Signless near. BY WHEN MOVEMENT GREW MOTHERFUCKING GREAT. Those ones got being more enclosed. THEIR FEAR WOULD BE BEACON BLAZING HIGH, OF WHERE THEY WERE." And always so damn quickly eviscerated. He can see that clear too.
no subject
He doesn't sit immediately when Initiate taps the stone, nor even as he starts his story. He doesn't want to sit, and with his meandering style of speech, he can't tell at first who or what he's talking about. But as time goes and the story stretches, comprehension of his missed steps comes through, and with it a willingness to listen more. Finally does he seat himself, though his posture sits as ready as a bird on a branch.
His lip ends up between his teeth as the words sink in. The picture isn't hard for his visual mind, but a picture tells nothing of how it must have really been: the atmosphere, the sound and feel, the hope for something better. He grew up in a time too different.
"It's weird to think about everything," he admits. "It barely had any effect on my life, you know? I didn't even know I had an ancestor until Alternia was gone and our race was dead. And even then I never expected to meet the guy."
no subject
Meeting his own descendant.
"The arena before you was being here, when I'd not a word in my maw, there were books. WRITINGS DONE AT OF ALL OF US, TRUE AND MOTHERFUCKING FALSE ALIKE. Naturally, mine held the most of our people's history up in it. AND YOUR ANCESTOR'S PEOPLE WERE THOSE I SOUGHT TO ERASE. A lot ninjas as was getting inspiring by his preach. A LOT OF MOTHERFUCKERS WHAT INCITED THINGS GREATER, WHAT ALL WOULD CHANGE HISTORY'S COURSE. Even as I crushed them." He is all too drained and worn to express regret. Not any more than he already is and has. He is tired and worn. He is somewhere between eight and nine sweeps with a thousand's worth of weight. He wants to make purpose of this.
"DO THE TEXTS OF THE FUTURE TELL OF THE SUMMONER? ...The Neophyte?" He queries then, with only some hesitation. "WITHOUT THEM BEING SUFFERISTS CONTRIBUTIONAL. Without them up at all, Alternia would've been different, vastly so. YOU WOULD'VE FACED ADULT TROLLS EVERY NIGHT, AS LIKE I DID. You can't see the effects, but they're there. JUST AS THEY ARE FOR MY OWN DESCENDANT, AND THE DESCENDANTS OF ALL OF WHAT WERE CHOSEN ONCE. You, and Terezi." And Gamzee. How taboo it is to say his own descendant's name.
"I HAD THE SCRIPTURE TO MINE OWN. Tales of doom were also quite popular in my time. AS ALL I WAS ALIVE, I KNEW THE END WOULD COME. But I never quite motherfucking fathomed the extent..." How much greater and lesser it all had turned out to be.
no subject
"No. Nothing official does," he says, with a glance sideways. "I heard of the Neophyte from Terezi, and Vriska and Eridan's ancestors, because Vriska was all obsessed over shit and had some dumb journal..." He shakes his head. "I didn't believe it then because I thought ancestors were just some trumped up highblood bullshit, offense fully intended."
He's heard names by now, little snatches of whatever. Maybe someday he'll sit down and dig out the details somehow, but not yet.
"I'll put it this way: I had no idea adults living off-planet had anything to do with a revolution. I just thought it had to be... you know, some kind of imperial policy introduced to strengthen the ranks of our military and forces of conquest, you know?" Forces he wanted to join, no less, before his life took a different path.
He shakes his head again, saying, "I didn't have a single clue about the world ending until it was right about to happen. Like, Sollux had put the game together to try to prevent it, but it ended up being the cause, and by the time he realized that I was already in and being a shit because I thought he was just trying to back out of his stupid competition we had going. But then I learned about the Reckoning proper and Paradox Space and how absolutely everything is predicated on some kind of dumbass timeloop somewhere along the line. I mean, fuck, you wouldn't even exist if not for me being there to start the game that ended the world." With a look he snaps off, "You're welcome, by the way."
no subject
He looks to Karkat all apprehensive, like the motherfucker's pulled out something unpleasant.
You wouldn't even exist...
"... What...? WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?"
For Messiahs' sakes he thought he was done with this surprise existential fuckery. He should be done, dammit. He found out he had a past life. He found his past life was a failed disappointment to the Messiahs. He found out his entire life was pre-determined event unchangeable, did he really have to have more up on top?
Apparently so.
no subject
"What that means," he says in a measured tone, "is that I literally made you. And not just you--I made the Signless, the Psiioniic, every ancestor my team has, and the whole of my team itself including me. Twenty four stupid little grubs crawling over everything, namely my shrieking husk, until the meteors took you all back through the timeline to Alternia."
As if that weren't enough, he adds, "Ask Dave if you don't believe me. His team leader made all of them and their custodians, too, with the same process of button-mashing, ectoslime, and general goddawfulness, though I at least had the self-respect to refrain from reenacting any corny movie movements."
no subject
Nope. Motherfuckin nope. He wants off this ride.
"All facetious you're to be... AIN'T EVEN MOTHERFUCKING TROLL PROPER, ALL PLAYING THIS BROTHER NOW!? And no, I ain't down for asking Strider! WHAT ALL ABOUT BEFORUS?! What in Messiahs-- slime?"
His voice is getting shrill. He catches it, stops, closes his eyes, and pushes his hands out like all he can slam the breaks on this.
"NO. No. I AIN'T ABOUT THIS. You're fucking with me. ALL LIKEN AT TO FUCK WITH THIS BROTHER, WELL I'M LEAVING! I'm done! I AIN'T. Dealing. AT. with. NONE OF THIS BLASPHEMOUS SCIENCE HOOFBEASTSHIT!"
He is. Calm. Totally calm. And he is going to stand up now and pretend none of this is happening.
no subject
"First off, you tempestuous Faygo tube, I am a proper troll, mutant or not. And no, I'm not playing you, fucking with you, or any other term for the same thing. Would you sit down? Listen and I'll tell you the whole thing."
He motions from where he sits, downward sweeps with his palms, aiming to calm and likewise get him to lower down. It's hurting his neck to look up like this.
"It was part of Sgrub, just like the whole thing with Beforus becoming Alternia. They scratched the game, Alternia came about, we played our game, and in the process I took the role of ectobiologically cloning us into existence. I know it sounds bizarre as fuck, but why would I make up something that ridiculous?"
no subject
"You really want this brother to be answering that because I could be down to give reason at by ton," He says, sulking. "I REMEMBER AT OF MY TRIALS. I was hatched. CAN YOUR SCIENCE EXPLAIN THAT?" Cloning... ugh. "What about Beforus? ALL PRIOR WAS THAT WORLD TO BE. How the fuck did you get working at getting us there too. BECAUSE WE WAS BEING MOTHERFUCKING THERE."
He'd seen his other self with his own eyes. There was no doubting there. Kankri, too, stood as proof of that noise.
no subject
He draws a deep breath, then starts. "So, Sgrub was a big, complicated mess, but near the end I wound up in this lab with a bunch of machines for ectobiology. It involves trying to appearify what can't be appearified because of time needing to go a certain way, so instead of the target you get this green slime. This contains genetic information, and with a series of button presses I basically got that for everyone, and the machines extracted the genetic info and produced our grubs from it. You didn't hatch--no one hatched. There we never any eggs involved," he explains.
"Instead, when the Reckoning started, the grubs were taken by meteors through Skaia's defense portals back to Alternia. The majority ended up ending the world, yes, but others were predestined to go back to different points in time with us. We pupated, we did go through the Trials, and we got our various lusii and lived our lives, just like you remember." He's emphatic on that part.
"And yes, we were on Beforus too," he continues. "In reverse order, with my team the ancestors of your group, however that went. But it's like... when the humans scratched their session, things got reversed. The meteors that carried them and their custodians reversed and carried them to different time points. Remember how I said everything is predicated on stupid time loops? It all ties together, and had to happen the way it did because it wouldn't be able to happen if it hadn't future-happened in the first place. I have had more headaches than you can even know over the subject, Makara, so don't even think I'm being unfair in giving you one."
no subject
Naw, he's not going to act grateful to Karkat. He did his time, he fucked up, it got erased whole and entire from his thinkpan. He doesn't need on reiteration of things being as caught on loop destined for his being and doing and causing the current shit what they were sitting up in the middle of.
He'll sulk all he damn wants.
"WE AIN'T EVEN REAL TROLLS. That's what as you're kicking. YOU BE ALL SAYING WE IS BUT WE'RE JUST SOME FUCKING COPY NOISE MADE UP IN A FUCKING LAB AT ON OF SOME SCIENCESTIFF. This all already motherfucking sucked but you just ground the cricket up on the shitty ass grubloaf what's today." He huffs. "...AM I EVEN BEING GAMZEE'S ANCESTOR THEN OR IS HE BEING MINE?!" He turns a glare at Karkat. "Is this my punishment? IS THIS HOW AT YOU'RE MAKING ME TO MOTHERFUCKING PAY?"
no subject
"Sheesh, you're a whiny motherfucker," he grumbles as he pinches and rubs his nose. "I'm not punishing you for anything, dumbass. It's called unloading basic facts for the sake of presenting knowledge, facts you asked about, and that my team by and large handled with much more grace and aplomb than the wiggler who's sat himself before me." He lowers his hand so he can hold him with a sharp look to confirm that yes, he means you.
"You're the ancestor because you grew up before Gamzee, aren't you?" The hand waves, open and airy. "I didn't pay attention to who was what when I made everything beyond what color and horns delineated. I didn't even realize the second set was you guys at all until after the game, when half my team was dead. For all I knew at the time they were just a bunch of backup grubs or some shit."
no subject
"Like all I said. DID MY TIME UP IN THAT GAME. I forgot it." Which totally excused his not taking the facts all as well.
He considers The coming beforeways was all what made him ancestor to gamzee. That wouldn't hold true on Beforus but... well, fuck it, he'd had enough divulgences done up on him today. That said... "YOU KNOW, CONSIDERING AS BEFORUS CAME FIRST, WOULD MAKE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS THE BACKUPS, WOULDN'T IT ALL?" Enough taunting. He hums, then says, "Ain't think I've ever proper learned as how half of yours got to kicking it. ONLY EVER GOT MOTHERFUCKERS MAD AT ME LIKE I SHOULD SIMPLY BE TO KNOWING. You, Terezi, Gamzee... some other one..."
no subject
"You lived a different life than that other you. You didn't have the experiences to forget. Aside from the start, you lived your whole life separate from him instead of becoming a freaky stitch-mouthed mime. And don't bring my ancestor into this; he had stupid Seer powers and you know it."
He follows up with a flat glare. "If you're going to jab at me, try putting some weight behind it, dumbass. I just went through the whole thing of why I had to be there for you to even exist, so I'm not a backup to anything."
Except maybe the alpha timeline, if he's as doomed as he thinks he is. He doesn't bring that up.
"But as thick as your head is, how should you be expected to know this? You're not the one who played the game. You were off doing..." He waves again, searching for what he doesn't know. "Weird clown cult stuff, I guess?"
no subject
"RUNNING A MOTHERFUCKING EMPIRE," He ammends, in annoyed tone. "You didn't think Her Condescension did it on all lonesome did you? A GRAND HIGHBLOOD IS MEANT TO BE HER RIGHT HAND TROLL, JUST SHORT OF EQUAL." Of course, he hadn't been that yet. But nevertheless, he had said meant to be. "I was a subjugglator. TRAINING TO TAKE THRONE. I led troop and inquisition, best of the motherfucking field, as would ever be. NOT TO MOTHERFUCKING MENTION MY MAKING HIGH PRIEST. I've been enlisted since six. AND WAS TO TAKE THRONE AT NINE." So fuck off, lay inherent, but he'll keep that part off it. He's not trying to get into strife but it's hard. It's so very hard with this brother. Even as he's starting to get how Karkat seems to be like this consistent and unwavering.
"...And on topic of leaving motherfuckers out, my other can be left out also," He continues, in calmer tone. "HE WAS ACTUALLY MOTHERFUCKING HEREWAYS BEFORE YOU CAME." He looks pensively at his hands, folded together as they are. There's a pause there. Then, he lifts then both up and makes several quick signs, before putting them down again. "Was there for my Avoxing. TAUGHT ME WHAT HE KNEW. Helped a motherfucker break through it. HE HAS REASONS HIS FOR WHAT GOT DONE OF HIM."
He misses his other. Which is strange, he knows, yet even still.
sorry it's short, couldn't think what more to add
His hands drop. "But fine, I'll leave him out." And not ask about whatever those signs the Initiate made were. "He's not the one I knew well." Neither among Makaras nor the dancestors.
s'okay o/
It lets him hide the rest. The fact he knows what makara Karkat means. That he was here, once. And that somewhere out there, in the dams of District five, he could still be there. Imprisoned, tortured, that part he couldn't be sure. But there.
"Brothers mine follow pattern. IT IS OUR WAY," He says, explaining a question what ain't been asked. Defending his own care for his descendant, without disregarding the truths what be. He'd learned well enough by now with Terezi. "But I'm sure as you knew that." Maybe it's just a little bit of an apology too, like he's got any hold up at all over what it is Gamzee might do.
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Like him, he doesn't say. His lips press together. It's not that they're unalike, because they do have their traits and resemblances and so on, but that Initiate lacks the weight that's been tacked onto Gamzee in his mind. Initiate isn't so self righteous in his faith that he can't get time to talk to him. He's given him the time of night for conversation and understanding, even if it's nothing of the sort he wanted with his ex.
He shakes his head. The Initiate doesn't need to know about that sore spot.
"Nevermind. I think we've carried enough heavy shit for today, and as much as I love sitting under a set of glowing torture implements, I would rather not outstay my welcome now that I've actually got one." He rises from his stone. "I'm going to go stuff bugs in my face. I'll see you around, Makara."
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Instead he shakes his head, letting it be. Terezi always tried saying the same thing. She always wanted saying like he was better somehow, he wasn't like that. But he knew as all these two didn't, as how blinded they were being. He might be better now, but in the whole grand scale, he was far, far worse. They were seated in proof of it.
But Karkat's just fine keeping that wound to himself. He won't dig in it.
He straightens, but doesn't rise with Karkat. "SOUNDS AS TO BE A PLAN LEGIT TO BE KICKING BACK UP ON. See you the motherfuck up around, Vantas." He gives a wave.