It ain't a skill. Its a defence. Its a last desperate route as to keep from destroying himself. Maybe he did learn something from his past life without knowing. Kurloz learned to quiet himself, to drown his rage. He learned to make it a weapon. He learned how to be a monster and monsters don't feel pain.
He thought he couldn't kill anymore. He thought his Avoxing had crushed this. He realises now. All this time, it was just sleeping. The Grand Highblood was always there in wait. He'll never be rid. But in this moment, he doesn't want to be.
They held his lusus. They tamed that beast and put it down. They stood up his scion and ended him. No ceremony. No grace. No reprieve. This went deeper than personal loss. Gamzee was the bringer of the angels, their guide, and so key to the rise of the Messiahs. He was their chosen one by Messiahs wills, and the sacrifice of his own past life was for Gamzee's victory.
The Capitol has done something unspeakable. They have committed sin against the Messiahs beyond imagining. And he is tired of his chains.
There's a terrible crack, as the bench is crushed under his fingers, like it's being none more than mere wet sand. The red of his eyes burns over until they're nothing but a solid bright glow, shining even in the daylight. He stands up, back to Sigma, where the Avoxed self would be there to wipe the tear and blood clean. The Highblood lifts his chin.
"MISTAKES WERE MADE. All of mistaking were they when they brought him here." Slowly, a smile comes over him. A wide, fanged grin. "FOR A WHILE THERE, SIGMA, DID THINK THEY HAD CRUSHED HIM. Did think they were so kind as to snuff him out. SO THAT A DIFFERENT TROLL COULD STAND AS THE ONE WHAT SPEAKS TO YOU NOW. But he sees now. HE SEES HE WAS WRONG! Heh... oh Sigma," He breathes, in shuddering tones, "He understands now. HE UNDERSTANDS THE TRUTH. And don't they know. DON'T THEY GOT SINGLE MOTHER FUCKING INKLING UP IN PAN? I am he what burns his brightest, what hangs his loves, and what kills his lusus, and what makes fuel of his dearest saviors..." He laughs once, barely more than a breath. Then again. Louder and uncontrolled, sacrificing his breath for the sake of its being. He turns around to face Sigma, arms spread wide. "I AM THE CROWNED PRINCE OF RAGE!" He roars. And then putting falsely benevolent smile, he says, soft, leaning in close so Sigma can hear his whisper. "And so a Grand Highblood is going to show them how... grateful he is."
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He thought he couldn't kill anymore. He thought his Avoxing had crushed this. He realises now. All this time, it was just sleeping. The Grand Highblood was always there in wait. He'll never be rid. But in this moment, he doesn't want to be.
They held his lusus. They tamed that beast and put it down. They stood up his scion and ended him. No ceremony. No grace. No reprieve. This went deeper than personal loss. Gamzee was the bringer of the angels, their guide, and so key to the rise of the Messiahs. He was their chosen one by Messiahs wills, and the sacrifice of his own past life was for Gamzee's victory.
The Capitol has done something unspeakable. They have committed sin against the Messiahs beyond imagining. And he is tired of his chains.
There's a terrible crack, as the bench is crushed under his fingers, like it's being none more than mere wet sand. The red of his eyes burns over until they're nothing but a solid bright glow, shining even in the daylight. He stands up, back to Sigma, where the Avoxed self would be there to wipe the tear and blood clean. The Highblood lifts his chin.
"MISTAKES WERE MADE. All of mistaking were they when they brought him here." Slowly, a smile comes over him. A wide, fanged grin. "FOR A WHILE THERE, SIGMA, DID THINK THEY HAD CRUSHED HIM. Did think they were so kind as to snuff him out. SO THAT A DIFFERENT TROLL COULD STAND AS THE ONE WHAT SPEAKS TO YOU NOW. But he sees now. HE SEES HE WAS WRONG! Heh... oh Sigma," He breathes, in shuddering tones, "He understands now. HE UNDERSTANDS THE TRUTH. And don't they know. DON'T THEY GOT SINGLE MOTHER FUCKING INKLING UP IN PAN? I am he what burns his brightest, what hangs his loves, and what kills his lusus, and what makes fuel of his dearest saviors..." He laughs once, barely more than a breath. Then again. Louder and uncontrolled, sacrificing his breath for the sake of its being. He turns around to face Sigma, arms spread wide. "I AM THE CROWNED PRINCE OF RAGE!" He roars. And then putting falsely benevolent smile, he says, soft, leaning in close so Sigma can hear his whisper. "And so a Grand Highblood is going to show them how... grateful he is."