thecapitol | I’m the reason you’re guilty, I’m the other man’s arms

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I’m the reason you’re guilty, I’m the other man’s arms

Who| Initiate + Signless & Psiioniic
What| A clown has enough and forces some reconciliation. This can't possibly go wrong.
Where| Psii's room.
When| Just after Initiate's Daywalker self is killed in arena.
WARNINGS| Language.

He didn't rush in immediately. He took the time to mull it over. Really. But ultimately, it all led to the same damn thing.

There little trio of misfortunate needed fucking sorting. He wasn't going to play ash, it didn't even call for ash. But they did need something, and it was something no paps by his hand were going to bring. Perhaps that in itself was indicative of the way this situation was and was meant at to motherfucking go.

He's already heavy with dread regarding the Psiioniic. All this would be is a new breed of it. Just maybe one he could fucking learn to deal with betterlike. But first, those two had to be dealing by their own.

And so, he grabs Signless, saying, "YOU'RE COMING AT WITH ME." And no more than that. He'd drag Signless if he had to. He'd pick the little brick of a troll up and carry him if it required. They were doing this. He was making this shit motherfucking happen.

Right up to the Psiioniic's door he goes, and miracles that, the doors open a bit already. Perfect. He throws the Signless in, shuts the door behind, and leans up against it.

"I'm done. I'M MOTHERFUCKING DONE WITH THIS, YOU GETTING ME?" He calls through the door. "You two are sorting this. YOU'RE GOING TO GET YOUR MOTHERFUCKING TALK ON. And I ain't moving until something's getting met." Now he's the bad guy. As it should be.

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"Oh good, I'm tho glad to know that you're the embodiment of all that ith right and true. What a knucklethponged idiot I turned out to be, well, you thure showed me!"

Psii reaffirmed to himself that one of his life goals was to make sure Signless didn't build a petty self-righteous bubble around himself. Psii would personally bust it. It occurred to him, now that the subject had been broached, that this was akin to some forms of blackflirting. But it was a bit too late to change that about himself now. So what if they crossed swords now and again? Friends did that.

"What you've been telling me ith that you thtewed around wanting me in thome nebulouth quadrant and you didn't tell me. You were bathically being a little nookthmear inthtead of being thtraight with me. What, exthactly, ith right about that?"

Two long fingers jabbed at Signless's chest.

"Maybe you're not in the right about every little fucking thing. It'th not my fault you have to get your undervethtmentth in a twitht every time thomeone doethn't agree with you. Taking a burdenthome troll in a quadrant ith not going to fixth thith tiff you're having with your moirail. You don't fixth problemth by collecting more problemth!"

Yellow creept to his cheeks, because he was both embarrassed and incensed. But he held fast, even as their faces remained close via Signless's viselike grip on his shirt.

"I would love to mindlethly latherate your inthipid fathe with my fathe, but that wouldn't fixth a goddamn thing! There, I thaid it!"

"It isn't as though I spent nights pining after getting you in a pile," Signless spat (no, really, there was blood in his mouth and it was annoying. A splotch of red landed on the Psiioniic's shirt).

"The both of you are assuming things about my feelings and ignoring what I am actually saying to you. He thinks I'm desperately pale for you to the point where it will hurt me to ignore it. You think I'm trying to be some kind of martyr when all I want to do is help a troll that I care deeply about, even if he's a nooklicking sack of shit. I could have gone on being your friend, and nothing more, for the rest of my life! And now I'm here instead having this asinine argument with you that won't solve anything because there is nothing to solve except why the both of you are so sure you know what I want better than I do!"

He let out an aggravated groan and finally let go the Psiioniic, wiping his bloody mouth on the back of one hand.

"Maybe I want you to mindlessly lacerate my insipid face with your face. It'll do as much good as anything else, and at least it will be cathartic."

Edited 2015-04-23 01:48 (UTC)

Psii glanced briefly down at his shirt, as if affronted that Signless would stain it, even when he didn't give any shits about his clothing anyway.

"Don't make me punch you, Vantas, I thwear I goddamn will—platonically!" he added belatedly.

He still had no fucking clue whether Signless wanted to to pap or punch him in the grand scheme of things. If it weren't for his low view of himself, he'd suggest doing both things simply because of duality. Psii flip-flopped his moods at the drop of a hat, and this dichotomy made it easy for him to mix up red and black when flustered, even while not realizing it.

The breadth of Signless's feelings for others crossed quadrants he never toed to begin with, and it left Psii feeling far from up to the task of fulfilling any of his wishes. He'd stuck by him for so many sweeps. First he was his savior, then he was his friend. Psii felt he could never repay that, least of all with the balance a lover should provide. But now Signless was telling him quite plainly what he wanted, which answered at least one of the questions bouncing around in Psii's think pan. His close friend, with whom he shared many an argument, wanted to have sloppy fanged makeouts. This at least made some sort of sense. Psii could handle that, maybe. Just casual hatekissing between bros, no big deal. He already thought Signless was being a giant pile of putrid leavings.

He touched his own mouth and found cherry blood there. He resisted the urge to lick his lips. Psii stared at the red on his fingers, his own blood boiling until it hit a switch in his head. His eyes flicked back up to his friend. Then he carefully, deliberately wiped them down Signless's shirt. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

He leaned close and breathed, "Make me, shitlord."

Honestly, Signless didn't know if he wanted to pap or punch the other troll either. For some reason this lisping asshole was deeply important to him. What he felt wasn't as simple as pure blackrom -- his unique history with Psii made that impossible, in his opinion -- but even if his feelings weren't strictly black, black felt best right now. Certainly more right than strict pale when being kind and patient could only ever go so far in opposition of the Captor cynicism.

He looked down at his shirt, which was made of delicate Capitol fabric and would now have to be dry-cleaned, and then back up at the other troll. His lip curled, baring blunt fangs in an expression that was equal parts snarl and smile. He lifted his hands, placed them on the Psiioniic's chest and shoved with all his strength.

It was difficult (and frustrating) to deal with Psii on a good day, especially for those close to him. His moods swung more wildly than they had any right to. Like now, when he went from mildly alarmed to all-out locking horns (metaphorically, to the disappointment of Capitol fans everywhere).

There were certain qualities that Psii admired in Signless. His empathy, bravery, and way with words, for example. But there were so many things that infuriated him as well. He could be reckless, petulant, noisy, and—dare he say—preachy. Hands like hot brands lay themselves on him, and the hairs on the back of Psii's neck prickled as a charged exaltation surged through him. He was fully prepared to start either pawing or punching, when suddenly the world tipped backwards.

I'm taking you down with me.

He hissed and clawed at any part of Signless—his shirt, his arm—he might possibly reach. His bony ass slammed into the floor, and a ringing in his head sounded as the tips of his horns clipped the ground.

"Fuck!"

If there was one thing one ought never to do, it was tell Kankri Vantas he was preachy. Sure, the Psiioniic hadn't said it, but he was thinking it and that was enough. Psii's claws caught in his sleeve and he was too busy snarling to notice until he was already too far into falling to stop himself.

He landed hard on one shoulder, having turned himself to try and soften the blow, but the impact still made him hiss. He was very briefly but very forcibly reminded of the last time he'd really fought a Captor; it had been an ungainly mess of flailing on both sides but at least he'd managed to win. With that in mind he rolled himself sideways, intent on pinning the other troll until he admitted defeat.

Reverberations ran down Psii's horns into his skull, and through the dizziness he felt the stocky weight of Signless on him. Being pinned would mean defeat, if this was nothing more than a platonic fight. But they had already gone past the point of hoofbeasting around. This wasn't over. No way would Psii admit defeat when the fight was just getting started. Shit just got smearious.

Psii grabbed his stupid hair and mashed his fangs against his mouth. The taste of blood made his own run hot. Claws grated over one short nubby horn. He hoped uncomfortable horn mishaps would dizzy Signless as much as it did him. He shoved his thigh between Signless's legs, less to injure and more to embarrass. Take that.

Maybe if he made the tussle more awkward than it had to be, Signless would admit defeat. He'd get off Psii's case in the interest of resuming their status quo, that being their prolonged but sporting game of human gay cluckbeast. Or maybe he would succumb to Psii's clearly superior wiles and be defeated anyway, because no way in hell was Psii going to back down now. Maybe if he pailed him silly, he'd get it out of his system. Signless would realize what Psii always knew, that he was a mistake, and there would be no trouble again.

At first, it's all too muffled. Then the volume grew and he was trying deliberately not to get up involvement with that shit, tuning it out. Passing Tributes, Mentors, and otherwise got nods. Passing Avoxes got smaller, more solemn ones and greater passage for slipping by.

Then the snarls got louder and he started glancing at the door, unsure if he should do something but ultimately reminding himself, no, he needs to stay out of it. This was theirs to sort on out and the Psiioniic didn't want him no ways near anyway.

Then the thump sounds and he's jumping up, wondering just how bad he's fucked up this time. Slowly, he reaches for the door knob, turning it. The door cracks open slow and he starts with a peek.

And then he's throwing it open. And staring.

"...What the motherfucking Minstrel's tits?"

They're on the floor. Making on the fuck out. Angrily. The Psiioniic's leg is between the Signless's, oh sweet Mirthful Messiahs no, nope, he didn't ever, ever want to see this.

Oh, shit, right, there was a baby clown outside the room who would probably be worried by all the yelling and crashing. Some small, dry-voiced part of Signless's mind says 'this is about as well as you thought it would go, why are you surprised?'.

He ignores that voice in favor of dragging his mouth away from the Psiioniic's and rolling sideways off him, one hand automatically lifting to press against the base of the pinged horn (his aren't sensitive like a psychic's might be but it still doesn't feel great to have claws dragged over them like nails on a nubby chalkboard). He keeps rolling until he's sitting flat on his ass with his face toward the doorway and the troll standing in it.

Shit. Shit. He'd like to say he can explain but he honestly has no idea what the hell just happened and he doesn't like to lie. Very slowly his hand moves down from his horn to press over his bloody lip instead.

"Uh."

He sat up at the sound of a third voice, disoriented. Psii too had forgotten he was there, preoccupied with owning Signless's ass, figuratively and literally. Lying would be pretty pointless right now, considering Initiate caught them right in the act. Also they both had blood on their lips. He was about to instinctively hiss at the bulgeblocking clown intrusion, but Signless's eloquent response re-demanded his attention.

"'Uh'? Thankth a lot lother, now I have to exthplain what the fuck'th going on while you have a debilitating therebral aneurythm."

He scowled at Inititate. Psii was right back at square one. There was still unresolved quadrant tension with Signless as well as a clown in his block--who had witnessed his sloppy makeouts. He might just die of embarrassment.

"By the way, I have no idea what the fuck'th going on! But he thtarted it."

He shoved at Signless's shoulder, attempting to shake him out of his reverie like a good hatefriend. Signless should be able to explain his own lapses to his palemate better, God.

He is a whole lot of gaping and his mind is a great buzzing of things. The first thought that becomes really truly clear to him is simple statement unto himself; I am not going to motherfucking auspisticize this.

Why? Why does he try to help these things. Or anything. It always, always blew up in his face. Good advice got twisted, people he tried to save ended up dead, and then... then there was fucking this. Whatever this was. As the Signless and Psiioniic so clearly explained.

He looks from Signless to the Psiioniic, then back again. His face pinches. He runs a hand through his hair and then shakes it out.

"NEITHER OF YOU GOT TO TALKING IT UP AND OUT. Aight. FINE. If that's how it's gonna up and be..."

"There wasn't anything to talk out!" he says, indignation finally snapping him back to himself where the Psiioniic's shove hadn't. "We aren't going to suddenly be moirails just because you think we should, Kurloz. That isn't how it works."

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, mussing it more than it already was, and took a moment to breathe.

"I'm sorry. You're only trying to help, I know. And we did talk, it just didn't go in the direction you thought it should. This -- if our relationship does swing more toward black, it might not be a bad thing."

He looks sideways at the Psiioniic as though asking for confirmation, or at the very least to search for a reaction. They've always bickered, haven't they, always pointed out each others' failings and stupid decisions? It might work.

"I think we talked plenty," Psii drawled. "We've ethtablished that SS and I are shithive maggotth inthane."

Psii had more questions now than before these two entered his block. Didn't Signless say he was pale for him, not pail? How were they going to move forward from this awkward turn of events? And how the hell did they even end up on the floor? But his instinct was to posture and bluff in front of Initiate, or anyone else he didn't know well.

Talking to Signless however, he was more vulnerable. He knew it, and the thought sent embarrassed yellow creeping across his cheeks. He wasn't supposed to be pitiful now, not when he'd been wrestling him moments before. But there was no hiding his shortcomings from Signless, and, as Signless said, there was no preventing his care and compassion spilling over to those closest to him.

"I'm--I'm a shitty friend at betht, let alone a...." he stammered, trying to buy time to find the word for whatever he was supposed to be. "N-not that I don't want to, I jutht don't know what the hell it ith I'm doing exthactly. Ithn't vathillation thuppothed to be a bad idea? Either way, I'm not letting a clown tell me what to do."

He's about give out a frustrated growl of his own, an indignant twist coming upon his features, when his intentions are entirely misconstrued-- and it still apparently didn't result in anything being done up about it. But then Signless apologizes and he loses some the energy required to keep up that kind or anger. Things aren't how they used to be.

He ain't even going to argue that the lot of them ain't fucking nuts. They all three damn well know they're insane in their own ways.

He sighs heavily, "I DIDN'T GET ON EXPECTATIONS OF PAPPING AND PILES. I mean, figured it a possibility but that wasn't being the point all exact. JUST MEANT THIS SHIT NEEDED ON TALKING ABOUT. You ain't think it does because you want to leave that noise on behind you," He points out to Signless. A little accusing, but gently so. He's still pale for the motherfucker. "AND HE AIN'T THINK IT WORTH TALKING BECAUSE HE DON'T LISTEN TO ME FOR SHIT, NEVER MIND THINKING LIKE HE'S GOT ALL THIS CARE HE WON'T GIVE CAUSE HE AIN'T THINK HIMSELF WORTH IT. Sorry, brother." He throws it out to the Psiioniic even knowing he may well just be spit in the face for it.

"I NEED HIM NOT TRYING TO FORCE HIMSELF NEAR ME JUST BECAUSE HE THINKS IT'S WHAT YOU WANT AT HIM TO DO, KANKRI. It don't just tear him up, aight? I CAN'T STAND IT." And not because he was a lowblood or whatever shit the Psiioniic was ready to throw at him next. He breathes. Steadies himself. "...And I guess I ain't motherfucking want on finding out like you're avoiding him, getting missing out for as what's being a miracle chance at to you."

He takes a step back, raising his hands up, defensive. He's not going to play ash, that's for sure.

"APOLOGIES MINE FOR BUTTING UP INS. I, uh... I can go wait outside again..." He takes another tentative step back, looking to Signless's face for confirmation, avoiding the Psiioniics. Is this okay? Am I doing right?

You're doing fine, his expression says. It's a small, somewhat rueful smile. For all he thinks this was an awkward waste of time that raised more issues than it solved, he knows the Initiate was just trying to make sure he and the Psiioniic were both happy. It's impossible to be really angry with him when everything he does comes from such a good place.

He knows it's true, too, that part of him rejected this so hard because he doesn't want to open up the old wounds he still has from the Helmsman. He'd wanted a fresh start with this Mituna: in his mind he'd already moved on, and from his view there were no longer any problems. He already decided that avoiding the Psiioniic when he'd been given a chance to do things over again was stupid practically the first day he showed up. That it would still be a worry at this point wasn't something he'd even realized.

"You could have talked to me about this first. I would have told you that I never intended to avoid him. I wouldn't give up an opportunity like this, I promise. It just took time to get used to the idea. And I can't speak for him --" He turns to look at the Psiioniic, "-- but I should hope he knows I don't expect him to do things he isn't comfortable with for my sake."

All he wants is for the Psiioniic to respect what he has with the Initiate. That doesn't require him to like it, or to like the clown.

"What, you think me and human Sam should have jutht left you there to bleed out? How Alternian of you," he sneered, rising to his feet. He instinctively didn't like being on the ground in front of a clown for long.

"I would have done the thame for thomeone elthe. It'th not all about you, or even about SS. I'm done with leaving otherth to die. That'th what maketh me uncomfortable. I left that life. Jutht do me a favor in the future and don't get hurt anywhere near me again." He crossed his arms dourly.

"SS, you chothe to befriend an idiot who thtopth to help people. Deal with it."

He sighs in relief, connecting eyes with Signless. He feels ever more like an ass. A better moirail might've known this shit. A better moirail would've worked it out. He should've talked. Next time he'll talk. Maybe after all this is overwith, him and his brother best...

He twitches at the sneer. That ain't fair. That ain't fucking fair and this brother should know upon it. (Being Alternian used to be a spark of pride, not a curse.)

"AIM LIKE A FUCKIN ARCHERADICATOR! Dead and dead. YES I GOT MY GUMPTION ON FOR THINKING SO! Pan's all full up about that unrigteous noise, and tell at you. YOU AIN'T WANT IT UP ABOUT ME, AIN'T GOTTA UP AND BE SO! Bestow balm and mercy all as gets up at in where all to your heart's at. BUT I AIN'T PART! What do I got to do, call you enemy mine before you get the picture? I DON'T WANT YOU TO UP AND HELP ME." He shouldn't say it. But he does. "You know I pitied your future so stop throwing it back at me and spitting on what's left of mine. I LEAVE AT YOU ALONE, YOU LEAVE LONESOME OF ME. Can we make motherfucking accord of that?"

Signless is there. This feels all like spitting the shit familiar. He doesn't like the taste no more and he didn't like it much back then. Guilt brings him down from his brief riling up.

He takes another step back, head down, eyes averted, hands up. Surrender. "AIN'T ASKING A SKEW OF IDEALS FROM YOU NONE. A little motherfucking mercy for memory, aight, that's all I'm asking of."

Signless looks between them, the Psiioniic all prickly and on-edge, the Initiate cowed and resigned, and frowns. He's getting the increasingly clear impression that if anyone needs to talk to anyone else it's the two trolls in front of him, but he knows better than to push for that. This whole thing has already made it clear that just trying to force two people to talk something out won't get the results one wants.

He stands as well, placing a bracing hand on the Psiioniic's back for just a moment. He isn't sure that a longer touch would be welcome with that confusing sideways tumble into blackrom still hanging over them.

"I think," he ventures carefully, "that it might help if you both agreed on a mutual truce of some kind. I'm not going to facilitate that, because it isn't my place to play ash for you two, but there must be some arrangement that you'll both be happy with."

"I'm thure Kankri didn't want you to jutht be left there, you fucking nookbiter! But take that up with him thomewhere that ithn't my rethpiteblock."

This was going nowhere. Turning his glare to Signless seemed a better course of action, though this troll was also two steps from driving him over a cliff, spinning and screaming as he executed diving flips off the handle. His lip curled.

"I'm not interethted in touching any quadrant with him, and I think he'll agree. I'm not interethted in being hith enemy either. He wantth to do hith goddamned betht to thtay away from me, and tho do I. It'th when he thteamrollerth over my moralth that I—"

Why did he care what a clown thought about his morals anyway? And why did he ever think that a clown would respect his wishes? Psii bristled, trapped in a conundrum he wanted no part of. For all he cared, the clown could go fuck himself regarding Psii's ideals. But Psii also didn't want to live with himself if he actually did leave someone to die.

"Fine! I thtay away from you, and you thtay the fuck away from me! You can thtart by getting the hell out of my block!"

He didn't wait for Initiate to comply. He had an overwhelming need to abscond in a huff, but he didn't want to try sidling past the clown. He he stomped over to his closet, stepped squarely inside, and slammed it shut.

Closest door slams. His first reaction is to start, old Avoxing bits keeping him jumpy. The next is to make a strangled noise of frustration, hands going up and claws dragging through his hair until they get on close toward his face-- the old Alternian rage struggling not to rear up.

And then finally comes the exhaustion, the middle ground between the two like the drop in a canyon, the fissure born of the two sides having once been forced together despite their resistance.

He wishes he hadn't bothered. He doesn't know why he thought he could fix anything. He guesses it's just his turn to make stupid decisions about ex-moirails.

"AIGHT, I'M GOING," He says. He shoots Signless a brief glance. "Sorry, Kankri."

Signless looks at the closed closet door with his mouth compressed to thin, dark line. Fine. Mituna sometimes needs to throw a tantrum before he feels better about something. He can have his closet and maybe in a day or two he'll get his horns out of his own ass and they'll make real progress.

He closes the distance between himself and his moirail, catches his hand, gives it a squeeze.

"You meant well," he says softly. "I know you did. It was a good effort."

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I’m the reason you’re guilty, I’m the other man’s arms

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this icon but with a lot more teeth

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aaand this is just about done?