thecapitol | So I set out across that way to strike them down, to make them pay

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So I set out across that way to strike them down, to make them pay

Who| Initiate + Sam & Tony. Initiate + Signless & Psiioniic.
What| The Initiate has gained some information. It's time to bring plans to fruition. But first he needs people.
Where| A capitol alley bindspot.
When| After speaking with Sigma, post-arena.
WARNINGS| Language.

He walked out the tower that morning, face bright, hopeful. He walked with body loose, mind mulling over idle simple things, only the barest trace of nerves underneath. He returns different.

When he comes back his spine is straight, shoulders back, wild hair still long and so cascading down. Each step is measured and his chin is lifted. He looks calm, right up until his fists curled tight and the ways his eyes blaze red.

He reaches them separate, calling them to meet him at different times. There is murder on his face and not a smile to be seen, until he says with all teeth, "He'd like us getting a meet on. MAYBE GET OUR MOTHERFUCKING CHILL REAL NICELIKE. Think as he and we could be about getting better knowing this motherfucking way. PLACE OUTERWAYS WHAT TO BE AT, BROTHER. He'd not be motherfucking late, were he you." He gives the time, and a tense goodbye, all without single chance of speakings otherwise. He would not be placated.

Sam would bring Tony. Signless would bring the Psiioniic. Two separate meetings. Two fail safes. At least one of them would offer what all he needs. He waits in alley, with graffiti painted bright as to mark their security there. His back is to the wall as he waits for his arrivals, hands opening and closing in want of clubs. Or maybe an enemy. It's been long since he felt like this

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"No, brother, it isn't," he says quietly. "Maybe it's what you want to tell me, because it's easier to hide behind-" He pauses, gesturing vaguely at all of him. "Behind this."

He may not have ever experienced the terrible things that Kurloz did, and it may be easier for him to overlook them because of it, but Sam has never once considered them separate from him. Just because someone changes enough from who they used to be that they might as well be two different people doesn't mean they are, doesn't mean that they don't have to own everything they did.

Sam knows that, as a counselor, a friend, and as someone who'd had to learn that first hand.

It doesn't mean he isn't worried, though. Whatever'd happened to bring this about must have been pretty damn terrible, and Sam... some of his demons are pretty fresh these days.

But he doesn't know how not to keep going with this, so he shrugs one shoulder. "You got picky first, man, you're the one who told me what I should be on the lookout for. This looks like one hell of a backtrack to me."

"THIS AIN'T NO FUCKING BACKTRACK!" He snaps and that smile is gone. He breathes hard. "You... think this is backtracking?"

It's a hypothetical of course. Sam's made his stance clear. Shame, that.

"THERE'S NO HIDING ANYTHING, THERE'S NO RUNNING FROM THIS! Really, brother. IS HE DOING ON ANYTHING WHAT AIN'T NEED DOING? Is he being anything what ain't need to be?" When he's like this, the fluctuations are sharper. Where before it was a balance of gargling nails to smooth flow, now is the difference of shrill and soft. Now is the difference of a canyan's edge and end.

"HE'S STILL UP ON YOUR SIDE, AIN'T HE? Ain't that being enough? ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S HE WHAT'S GETTING BACK TO PROGESSION! No more flailing about useless. PURPOSELESS! What fuckin use was that, might he ask? A KILLER WHAT COULDN'T CULL! Fuck that. AIN'T NOTHING BROKEN HERE. All made repaired on, as was meant to be. AS WAS MEANT TO FUCKING BE IS THIS! What you're remembering is the words of a broken motherfucker. A MOTHERFUCKER WHAT'S BEEN DONE MOTHERFUCKING SURPASSED."

He straightens up, shoulders back, chin lifted as he stares down. He pulls that smile back.

"He'll win this for us... HE'S GOING TO MAKE THEM PAY! Ain't that just?"

Like he always does, Sam leans back a little and listens, picking through that for what might need a reply and what he's going to let go.

He thinks about saying something about how Kurloz seems to be the one who wants to separate them, into broken and fixed, useless and useful, like the person who Sam calls his brother isn't who he is now. Thinks about talking more about backtracking, about the danger of using words like broken and repaired and useless.

Even thinks about going selfish, about telling him no, it isn't enough. That Sam wants his brother, and whatever the fuck he's doing right now sure isn't surpassing anything.

But after a moment he focuses on that last bit, on 'make them pay,' because that's personal. That might lead Sam to what'd gotten him to this point.

"Just for what?"

"FOR WHAT THEY'VE DONE! For what they've been at to do. THIS IS JUSTICE! This is what's being deserved. THEY'VE TAKEN FROM US! They're going to keep taking and taking until there ain't nothing left, brother. HE IS STOPPING THIS SHIT BEFORE IT GETS NO MOTHERFUCKING FURTHER. He'll line them up just like they did at my motherfucking descendant and--"

He twitches. His claws flare out and his teeth go to baring more. Then those red eyes get to narrowing at Sam.

"GOING TO MAKE THEM PAY, SAM. Took our families as they brought before to us Tributes." He spits the word. "GOT TO TAKING OUR MOTHERFUCKING TREASURED ONES TRUE! Lined them up and culled them each. ALL THEM WHAT WAS IN DISTRICT FIVE IS DEAD AND THEY HAVE NO HOLD ON HIM! A Highblood is going to hash the wicked unmercies by them if he's gotta fight through everyone else to do it."

He steps back and spreads his arms wide. He makes all to laugh, high and demented. There's a tremble in his digits and it is entirely with want of cull. So he's telling himself.

"THERE IS NOTHING AT FOR HIM TO LOSE, SAM! Everything is as all it's going to be. NOTHING. Motherfucking. MATTERS AS FOR WHAT HE DOES! So why not? WHY MOTHERFUCKING SHOULDN'T HE FLAY THEM ALIVE AND RIP THEIR CORPSEMEATS FROM THEM PIECE BY FUCKING PIECE? Why shouldn't he get down from grinding every single one of their bones? WHAT THE FUCK REASON? There's not. THERE'S NOT A DAMN ONE! And a Highblood really wants to hear sweet symphony of making them beg."

Edited (so many edits) 2015-03-23 04:34 (UTC)

There it is. That's what Sam's been looking for, and suddenly everything snaps into place. Suddenly this all makes sense.

"Gamzee."

Shit. God, Kurloz had been so damn happy when he talked about him, when they made plans for the future. Kurloz was going to fly and Sam was going to meet the kid and of course they'd gotten ahead of themselves. The Capitol took Natasha and Albert, why the hell would they have actually kept any of the people they weren't even making a pretense of not holding prisoner?

"There's so many reasons, it's just real damn hard to see them right now through all that anger." Sam's been there, more than once, but he doesn't say that right now. He's not sure how well he'll take the comparison at the moment. "You want me to start listing them? It always matters, Kurloz, and it always comes back around again."

He shakes his head, though, because right now he doesn't care so much about trying to talk Kurloz down from whatever this is.

It's grief, grief and anger and wanting to run away from it all, just like Sam did when his father was killed, like he did after Riley. "You changed your mind on how you feel about hugs?"

He hears the name and it makes him want to scream. He lurches forward with a snarl, just barely restraining himself, like ain't nobody got the right to so much as let that name touch their lips. But it's Sam, and for all he's like this, something still stops him.

Nothing should stop him. Ain't nobody should be worth the stall of claw and club. Subjugglator law, holy rule.

And Sam wants to fucking hug him. He screams without a second thought, "DON'T TOUCH ME!" The shaking spreads past just his hands. He takes a weary step back, wide-eyed as an injured animal. "Don't touch me..." He repeats.

He shakes his head once. Then harder again. The hair all long and wild adds to his looking unhinged.

"NO, IT DOESN'T," He says in a voice gone hoarse. "It doesn't matter. NONE OF THIS MATTERS, SAM, NO MATTER WHAT I DO!" He's breathing hard, swallowing hard. "But you're right on one thing. IT ALWAYS COMES BACK AGAIN. It's destined. MEANT TO BE. Every death. EVERY DEATH. We all get returning. DID YOU KNOW THAT, SAM?" More laughter. "We all go back no matter what, no matter what, no matter..." He trails. Then it's back. "I AM THE GRAND HIGHBLOOD AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU OR I OR ANYONE IN THE MOTHERFUCKING UNIVERSE IS EVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO DO ABOUT IT, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"

And with that roar echoing off the walls, some of the Kurloz Sam knew shows through. Terrified. He takes another step back. Then another.

"Don't touch me..."

For a second, Sam almost tries it anyway, almost reaches after him to take his arm and pull him in. But it's not in Sam to push someone screaming that, no even when he isn't sure if Kurloz really means it or is just scared.

No. Sam didn't know that. So that means Natasha back home and pissed, trying to figure out a way to get them back from there - or will she even know they're gone? He and Natasha had seen Steve moments before, but he'd been five months here without them, how the hell did that work? And Albert back on his world, with that questionable government and without Jet - with Jet? Either way it still means he is never going to see Albert again, and he-

He can't process that right now.

What he can do is focus on Kurloz, on the fear he's starting to see through the cracks.

"So what, you're just going to give up, then? Thinking that none of what you do will matter after you die so you're just let it all go right now, walk right off the path and not let anyone follow you?" Sam shakes his head again. "I got news for you, brother, there are too many people here you aren't willing to let you go a second before they have to."

He opens his stance a little, angling towards him and all but reaching out. "Don't back away from me now."

"I CAN'T. I can't..." He shakes his head. His arms wrap around his ownself to keep from coming apart and doesn't work. "I CAN'T BE THE MOTHERFUCKING HIGHBLOOD AND HAVE PEOPLE! I can't have people and be the Highblood. THAT'S HOW IT WORKS, SAM! And it's all set the fuck up, if I so much as sneeze in what's being wrong it'll doom the timeline. IT'LL DOOM EVERY MOTHERFUCKER I GOT A CARE FOR ANYWAY!" This is it. It's all spilling out. Before he had hope. Before he thought he could just do right if he returned to Alternia. Then he told himself he wouldn't have to up at all. But he does. He will. And that means everyone's on the line.

"Maybe even you... EVEN FUCKING YOU, SAM. Do you get that? WE MADE YOU. We were supposed to be your rulers. YOUR CREATORS. Didn't you never wonder why my stars was in your sky, Sam? IT'S BECAUSE WE, THE TROLLS, ARE YOUR MOTHERFUCKING MAKERS!" It's not triumphant. It's not all with the pride as of the Highblood that he says it. It's despair. Whole, utter, and complete. He wouldn't call them gods, that was the Messiahs alone, but he knew what it would sound like. And even that had been a hollow thing in the end. But the humans, Terezi, Gamzee... he can't doom them. He can't hurt the Psiioniic and Signless and Disciple either but he has to, he has to hurt them, he has to hang his matesprit and tear off the Summoner's wings and kill all the limebloods and so much more.

He can't take it. He needs to be someone what can.

"I can't... I HAVE TO. I have to be the Highblood. THERE'S NOT BEING NO OTHER OPTION. And the only way I can do it is I'm being a monster again. SO JUST FUCKING LET ME! Just let it go... I KNOW YOU WANT FAMILY, I KNOW YOU WANT GOOD! I know you want all for me to not tell you gone. BUT THIS IS IT. This is the motherfucking second you all have to let me go."

He's breaking. Again. And he can't stop it no more than he could the first time, when he was on a shore broken and bleeding, when he came here and his friends took him apart slow with their care. He can't stop it more than he could've stopped his past self losing his mind, or Gamzee changing from the good kid he knew. He can't stop it no more than his Avoxing and like with all times but that, something comes from him, wordless and agonized. Just one long scream.

Then he crumples, down to his knees, shivering and unable to control. Unable to stop the tears, or how he rocks, or the way his hands go to his horns like when he was five sweeps and alone and just needed to silence the world.

Edited 2015-03-23 06:13 (UTC)

He hadn't wondered, actually. The same stars were here in this sky, and in some of the other worlds he's learned about, it hadn't really occurred to him to wonder. And... he isn't going to try to say that what Kurloz is talking about isn't true for his world, but Sam doesn't believe it's true for his.

Not that it really matters what Sam believes, when it's one of the things that's gotten Kurloz like this. When it's what he's using to try to get Sam to let him go.

"I can't."

Even if he believed it was the best thing for Kurloz - which he doesn't, no way in hell - Sam isn't sure he could let him go like that, not so soon after losing Natasha and Albert. He doesn't waste anytime before dropping down to his knees next to him, reaching for him, hoping Kurloz'll let Sam pull him in close.

"I don't want good, Kurloz. I want this, I want you to talk to me when terrible shit happens, when you can't see another option. I don't know if I can ever help you round to seeing one but I wanna try, that's what I want." He lets out a shaky exhale.

"And how do you know what's going to happen with timeline shit, anyway? You don't think it's already been messed with because of all the ones that have crossed? I've already met alternate versions of two of my best friends, I got time gaps with ones who are from my world I can't explain, who's to say you aren't branching off and making an alternate timeline just by being here? Maybe there's already a version of you back there going on like you would've before you got here."

He can't. It goes through him. Just up and fucking runs him through and he makes a noise of pain for it. But compared to the scream, it's faint.

His breath catches and he flinches away from Sam at first. He curls in like he's going to be struck-- or worse, that he might hurt Sam somehow. But then, slowly, a little reluctantly he starts to lean against him. He doesn't get to be held like this. He was never small enough, except in his mind when all defences fell and he felt too weak.

He stays there against Sam, trembling, too ashamed to even want his his moirail-- past or present. Maybe he'd crawl to Kankri later. Maybe he'd slip into his room and barricade the door like he used to. It feels like he's there with Sam for a long time, trying to cease his crying. Hearing I don't want good, Kurloz. I want this. He finds himself starting up all over, trying to bury his face in his hands, claws digging in to skin and scalp, his hair all a veil too long.

"YOU-- S-SOUND LIKE T-TEREZI." He'd have laughed were it another time. If he maybe didn't feel like this. "Culled her bes' f-friend way back. I DID SOMETHING TERRIBLE. But she came to me. SHE ALWAYS GOT THIS FUCKIN..." Delusion is too cruel by her, even if it's right by him. "THING. Thinking I had something in me. GOT UNDER THIS MOTHERFUCKER'S SKIN. But that's how she got me. TOLD HER I COULDN'T DO RIGHT, AND SO TO BETTER CALL US ENEMY THAN FALSE FUCKING HOPES. Didn't accept that, her. SHE MADE ME DEAL. She'd get all to help when I couldn't see ways out but through hurting motherfuckers. ALL WHAT I HAD TO DO WAS TRY. Wanted to make Mituna proud too, but it was so hard, Sam. SO FUCKING HARD TO BE MAKING UP WHAT GOODNESS I DIDN'T HAVE."

He took the chance. He said yes to the deal. It was his greatest gift and downfall all the same. He screamed at her for what she had fucking expected, for why she didn't just go. And then she said because you stayed and he was doomed so fucking irrevocably.

In ways literal now.

"She told me. ALL THEM OTHER MOTHERFUCKERS OF MY WORLD GOT TO SPILLING BITS. It's how my world works there's... there's a thousand of me, Sam. MORE THAN. All those timelines as where something didn't got at to plan. THERE'S SO MANY BY WHAT ERRORS GOT BEING DONE OF THE CHOSEN TWELVE DESCENDANTS. And of my past life, when I was chosen. BUT IN NOT FUCKING ONE OF THEM HAVE I BEEN DIFFERENT. I just wanted one chance..." To be different. To be good. To not be doomed, to not be fucked up by some thing or other. "I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK. I don't wanna forget what I've got. I DON'T WANNA REMEMBER AS TO LOSE IT ALL NEITHER! I'd rather die. I AIN'T SCARED OF DYING, BUT THIS--" He's terrified. "If I'm dooming motherfuckers, I'm just killing everyone anyway. SHE'S A SEER OF SUCH THINGS, MY GIRL. Doomed motherfuckers get to paying, them what's closest even more so, and the center sinner most of all. I FIGURED IF AT I COULD STAY HERE, WHERE THE TIMELINES AIN'T BEING SO CLEAR, NOT SET NONE LIKE ALTERNIA, I COULD BE HAPPY! But even up without I'm just motherfucking tired. I'M SO TIRED OF HURTING. Being Highblood don't hurt as much so I..."

He hadn't even thought about it. It happened, came the fuck over him. He had option of this, his breaking down, or that, and of course he took that. He'd always rather sell his soul than break his heart. He always ended up doing it anyway.

"AND GAMZEE. Messiahs dammit. THEY KILLED HIM! They did fucking who knows what to him, and my other, and fucking Da. I SHOULD'VE BEEN THERE! I should've saved them! THEY ALL GO BACK TO DEATH OR FUCKING TURNING INTO ME. He didn't deserve that, Sam, Gamzee was good, he didn't need winding up like me..."

He just curls up, tighter and tighter. It was all so bad. But the worst thing? The worst thing was telling somebody.

Edited 2015-03-23 23:54 (UTC)

Sam stays quiet while Kurloz talks, just letting him get it out. He pulls him in close, hugs on to him as tight as he can.

It's hard, listening to Kurloz talk about himself like there's no good in him. Like because he's making it all up as he goes along, just trying to do right by the people he loves, he's somehow different than them at the core, less worthy. Like he doesn't know that most of the time, that's all the rest of them are trying to do, too.

Although no, it's not really like, Sam's pretty sure that's exactly what it is.

It's far from the first time that Sam's sat with someone who told him about the terrible things they did, about how that's all they were, and it felt like they were living a lie because no one else could see them. Because that's all they can see when they look in the mirror, and they don't understand why everyone else can't see it painted all over them.

But it's different because Kurloz is his friend. It's a pretty much impossible to be anything like emotionally detached here.

"So you wandered off the path." Sam finishes the sentence for him, voice soft, before he goes silent again.

His heart breaks a little when Kurloz says that Gamzee didn't deserve that. "I know, man, I know. It shouldn't have happened, and I am so damn sorry that it did."

God damn the Capitol.

"You stay sane for the people you love because you don't want to disappoint them, but there's times when it overwhelms you, when it gets too be too much because they can't see you're not the person they think you are, not when you keep failing like this. Not when all you can see is the way you failed, the so many things you could've done different." His voice cracks a little, and he swallows. "But brother, believe me, there is no such thing as a good person who's never been a failure. And this is not your fault, this is all on the Capitol."

His eyes have gone from ruby, to orange. They're leaning closer to gold as things go, but he's not there yet. He won't be for a while, he thinks. But this is getting close, as Sam holds on to him and he feels sick with guilt for it.

Wandered off the path. It's so fitting and yet jarring still. Something so seemingly harmless sounding.

Sam is all sorry, but Sam's the last one what needs to be. He'd be the last to have hurt the kid. It's hard to hear.

But not quite as hard as hearing what truths he holds intrinsic to him being relayed back. His head is lifting up, his paint run through with bits of clear indigo. He stares, with something like, but not quite disbelief. Something too miserable for wonder. It wounds him when Sam's voice cracks, like plunging a foot through a wooden bridge and catching flesh on the splinters and feeling a start in the heart.

Finally, he can't take no more. His arms go and wrap around Sam, hanging on tight. He stains Sam's shirt with his color and he allows himself to mourn. Mourn his Da, whom he never really had, his descendant who was and deserved better, a past self whom he'd have been happy being as before all the breaking came on down, a future that he just can't outrun. He tried. He really did mean to do right. It just wasn't good enough. It just wasn't being how Messiahs willed and there are holes in him what he won't never fix or fill. It all hurts really bad, but if Sam's to be believed, he should let it. Not to hurt himself more, but as not to.

"SAM?" He starts, when he can manage not to choke on the names and words what he wants to say. "When our times is up. WHEN THERE AIN'T BEING NOTHING LEFT. And we all gotta go back... WILL YOU REMEMBER ME? Not being the Highblood? JUST... Just Kurloz? WILL YOU HOLD THAT FOR ME, IF AT YOU CAN? All only motherfucking wanting... I wanna exist somewhere as... EVEN IF IT'S JUST MEMORY. Even if I can't never actually be... THE LAST TIME I DIED AND FORGOT EVERYTHING, STARTED OVER..." From Beforus to Alternia, dying to bring a second chance. All he did was make a world of fucking murder. All he left behind was a ghost what wasn't who he should've been. "...Nobody remembered none of the good. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO MEAN SOMETHING AND IT UP AND DIDN'T." He's all shaking and cracking tones as he speaks what's the last thing he can hope for. "I'd really like it if this time maybe it motherfucking did, you feel me?" Please let this all mean something, he thinks. If he can't have safety and home and sanity, at least can't he have this? Sam might not be able to, he knows.

He hopes Sam lies, if so.

Edited 2015-03-26 05:52 (UTC)

When Kurloz finally gives in and hugs onto him, Sam rocks back a little so he can take more of Kurloz’s weight. He keeps his arms wrapped tight around him, one hand splayed over his shoulder blade while he slides the other up in Kurloz’s hair, stroking through it.

“I got you, Kurloz,” he murmurs, holding his friend close while he grieves. “I got you.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, and lets himself mourn a little, too. For the kid he didn’t even know but who was so damn important to Kurloz, for the loss of the hope he’d given his friend - even for Natasha and Albert, though he can’t go into them too much right now. They’re separate from this, and he needs to process them in their own time.

It takes him a moment to reply to Kurloz’s request, even after he’s done speaking. Will you remember me like this is a request he’s usually only gotten if someone was dying or otherwise leaving for good. He knows it’s a different context right now, but with Natasha and Albert gone, it’s hard for him not to go there.

And he needs a minute to get himself under control, before he trusts himself to speak.

“I am never gonna forget you, you hear? You’re always gonna be my brother, and you’re always gonna have a place in here.” Sam pulls his hand away from Kurloz’s hair, just long enough to tap the side of his own temple. “Right next to Riley. It means something to me.”

It feels good being held like this. It feels so nice. He hates it. He shouldn't be doing this, not with Sam, not at all, there's no time, there's no place. He doesn't fucking deserve no comfort, he's going to kill every damn fucker he gives a fuck about and he's not going to be able to stop himself. Fuck.

Does he move though? No. Not a fucking chance. He doesn't know if can. He doesn't know if he can do fuck all of what he needs to do right now. He needs to save thirteen, the rebellion, everyone here-- what's left anyway, what ain't dead and gone and left them, all friends lost. He needs to face down Signless and Terezi and either break it to them that they're all fucked either damn way, they're all going back to shit, or he can find the poker face what'll keep them safe from it. He hasn't decided yet.

But if Sam knows or thinks what he says is a lie, he's a damn good liar. It's easy to believe, and that sort of thing has never been easy for him. Not after perigees of getting it beat into his damn skull. It's still hard to listen to, to say to himself he's got any right being placed next to a motherfucker so precious to Sam, but he can believe Sam would.

He can almost believe this will mean something and matter in the end, for the first and last and only fucking time.

He tries to speak, but he doesn't manage the first time. Or even the second really. Until final comes the, "Thank you. THANK YOU." He gasps for breath. It feels like he's drowning and he would know, having done it before. There's just enough air here. He just fight for it. "I'll have to keep you secret," He says, without looking, eyes squeezed shit. "WILL HAVE TO MAKE KEEPING ALL YOU MOTHERFUCKERS HERE SECRET. If I remember, ain't nobody else will never know what you all got to doing for me. BUT I'LL TRY. Even when I'm old and fucked up. NEXT I GET MY POWERS BACK. I'll carve it up in my soul. ALL UP BEING MARKED ON MY SOUL YOU'LL BE. They can't make me forget then. NOT EVEN I WILL BE ABLE. Forever. BEING PART. Even when I'm dead."

He's scarred a soul before. He's even scarred his own. He'd done it by his past life. He'd done it in this, by the rise and crash of his voice. He could do it again. It'd hurt, but not doing it would hurt more. He can imagine it like a beautiful scarification, winding lines of indigo-white where the flesh was carved up pretty. So when he murdered pity, hate, and damn near everything, he might still find love in an old ache. He could cash in a little more of his remaining sanity for that. "I'M SORRY, SAM. I'm so fucking sorry, brother."

It's not a lie to Sam. Maybe he should be more careful at promising stuff like that, maybe he should be more conscious of things like brainwashing after Bucky and Thor, more aware of how little he can really control when the Capitol can send him home any time - but he isn't. This, this he can promise, and fuck everything else.

He can promise to keep Kurloz's memory alive, the same way he does Riley's.

Even if he can't do anything as drastic as carving it into his soul, assuming that's not a metaphor. And given what he knows about Kurloz, he kind of figures it isn't, and to be honest - he's a little bit alarmed, at all that 'marked on my soul' and 'can't make me forget' that Kurloz feels like he'd need to do when he went back to his world.

Still - "I got a tattoo for him, you know. It ain't anything like - like all that, but it's my way of keeping him close. It'd be the same for you." There's a pause, then, "Who says you've gotta go back to your world, anyway? We win all this, we figure out how to get ourselves out of here, maybe you go somewhere else."

Sam shakes his head a little. "What're you apologizing to me for, huh?" It's part rhetorical question, because Kurloz doesn't need to apologize to him for anything as far as Sam's concerned, but part genuine. He wants to know what Kurloz is sorry for.

It's drastic, yeah, but the only way he could be sure. He doesn't know what going back might do to him, what it could take. Even if it left him be, a thousand sweeps, two thousand years, was a real long motherfucking time. He doesn't want to be one of them highbloods what can't remember the names and faces and voices of them what knew him best. He'd rather have ghosts than be alone.

He blinks in some surprise at Sam's admission, looking up at him. His paint is ruined, all streaked through with clear-indigo. He feels like he should care more about that, but he doesn't.

A tattoo sounds nice. Sounds as like something beautiful. He's near to asking what he got for Riley, when Sam suggests something greater. Greater than even being a picture on his skin.

"SOMEMOTHERFUCKINGWHERES ELSE?" He says with a speakpipe all raw worn. "All getting freedom from shit destined... YOU REALLY MOTHERFUCKING THINK I COULD-?" Oh gods. Oh Messiahs. Oh, oh, he wants it so bad, more than he's ever wanted everything, more than he's ever even realised it a thing he wanted.

"Yes! YES, I'D GIVE ANYTHING FOR THAT. I wanna get gone from Alternia. FROM HERE. From motherfucking fate. AIN'T WANT TO BE NO MORE PART OF NOTHING! I want be free..." That sounds so nice. That sounds so beautiful. It occurs to him it's something he ain't never truly been. Not since his earliest youth on Beforus. Not even then, really.

Mirth, where would he even go? Who could he get to come with him? There's so many more options lain out before him all of a sudden, he has to laugh, even as the tears want on coming back for more.

He realises that he didn't answer Sam's question, so his head bows again, but his bitterness has some sweet to it now. "WAS MEANING TO BE SORRY THAT... THAT I WAS STILL..." He swallows hard. "That I was still going to be a monster, no matter what. SORRY THAT I WENT ON EARLY FOR THAT NOISE. And all this. SORRY FOR GETTING ALL... EVERYTHING RIGHT HERE PUT UP ON YOU." He laughs again, choking on his own breath.

It might not be possible. But at the end of the day, like how he needed Messiahs, he needed some hope. Something to hold.

Edited 2015-04-07 08:35 (UTC)

Sam'd show him, if he asked. Maybe he still will, sometime, but Sam's distracted himself by Kurloz's reaction to his suggestion. He knows maybe it's a little farfetched, had been wondering if Kurloz wouldn't want it even if he could, but this is the reaction that he'd been hoping for.

False hope can be more damaging than none at all, Sam knows that, but they all need something. Some kind of hope, and he isn’t counting this in the false category. "Why the hell not? All the shit the Capitol can do, and we already know they can bring people to other worlds. Maybe we can make it work for us."

He shakes his head again when Kurloz explains, quirking a tiny smile. "Nah. You don't gotta be sorry for any of that, not to me. You and I are brothers, you hear? You don't have to be sorry for putting anything on me."

There's a moment of silence, as he considers his next words. "Come back with me," he says quietly. "Bring Signless and Terezi and whoever else. We've already got aliens and gods and giant green monsters and super soldiers and guys with wings, you'll fit right in."

Edited 2015-04-07 20:21 (UTC)

Brothers. Yes. He nods fervently. He still feels pretty motherfucking sorry. He's not sure he won't ever, when there's so much to be getting sorry the fuck for. But he knows that Sam, whether it's deserved or not, forgives him.

A maybe wasn't much, but it could be enough. It could be something, and at least if he was still truly doomed, he'd have that time to resign to it.

Sam's final words are what really get his eyes wide. Come back with him. Really, it's the place what makes the most immediate sense. Alternia was out, Shepard's world-- he'd never, Sandy's was out, Sigma's, Nill's, even the state of Albert and Jet's world (from what little he heard) seemed dubious. There were aliens aside himself, monsters and soldiers.

And moreover, it was still earth. It was a place, if not of his kind's direct reckoning, then or mirror to it, a ripple through the universes interconnected, but one free forever of fate's touch. He could die there and he would not come back again. He could be the guardian he was hatched-- no, created and cloned in a goddamn lab to be, he knows that now.

There's an ache so sharp in him. It was bad before, and it's still just as sharp, but some of it don't feel bad no more. Some of it feels like cutting away what was dead and poison and none but harm. Making way for new.

His hold on Sam had gone loose. Now, he lurches forward, damn near going to knock a motherfucker over with his arms wrapping around. Not too tight, don't crush him, a small voice reminds, but he can't help the excitement. The relief. "Thank you. THANK YOU. I'll bring everybody. WE CAN ALL BE SAFE. Oh, brother, you're a motherfucking miracle unto me, Messiahs sent you, I swear by what's holy of them, thank you."

He pulls back slow, looking Sam in the eye. His expression is all twisted up but there's a smile managing. "MESSIAHS WILLED IT. I was made to bring your kind to life. AND WHEN I FAILED, MY DESCEN--" His voice cracks. That's still a loss. One he can't make up for but he can bite it back just for now. "...Gamzee was to make your kind in turn. AND SUCCEED. We never got through. SHIT JUST FUCKING HAPPENS AS LIKE THAT. But it was always supposed to be my kind-- me and the other chosen-- looking after you. NOW HERE YOU ARE. Here you up and motherfucking are looking after my ass." He laughs again, sniffs, and shakes his head. Then, he bumps his forehead on against Sam's. As like goats do.

Edited 2015-04-07 22:23 (UTC)

Sam lets out a sharp, surprised ‘oof’ when Kurloz suddenly all but chucks himself back at him, losing his balance a little and automatically dropping one hand down to catch himself, but he’s laughing softly almost before he’s done being surprised.

Goddamn but Sam is pretty much fucked, because he’s pretty damn sure there’s not a lot he wouldn’t do to make this kid happy like that again. And considering the road they’ve got ahead of them? He already knows it’s going to be an uphill battle. And yet he’s resettling himself so he can sling both his arms back around Kurloz anyway, holding him just as tight with a stupid grin on his face.

He still won’t touch any of that about Kurloz or his descendants making his kind, because just because Sam isn’t technically practicing doesn’t mean he isn’t religious, and he’s never going to be able to believe that like Kurloz does. That’s not what matters, anyway, what matters is the way it’s getting to Kurloz.

“I’m not too great at letting people look after me if I’m not looking after them, too,” he replies, huffing a soft laugh at that little headbump.

Goddamn is he screwed.

“You could still look out for the world, you know. We could make our own Avengers. I’ll have a bird as a sidekick and you can get a little goat.”

Fondness is flood through, soothing the wounds he ripped open in little tiny bits what are more than he could ever motherfucking manage by his own. It's not technically so much a rare thing these days, where he's got all so many people all the motherfucking time, but in the span of his life, it still fucking shines.

He beholds the grin on Sam's face, like a laugh contained. It's a warm thing spun all pretty. It helps destroy some of the constant cold that's in his bones.

He grins wryly back. "HEAR THAT. Get on about for that, me."

He doesn't really know if Sam's world is his. He doesn't know if Panem is either. But one of them places was to be, and that mirroring made all for as it was; he was responsible. He had a means and power to protect them, if only he could get his claws in well the fuck enough. Sam preaches purpose samelike.

"OUR OWN AVENGERS?" He repeats, brow going up even as he smiles. "A goat and a motherfucker bird, ain't that to be being a pair most curious." He pauses. "I COULD STAY WITH YOU THEN?" He asks, careful "Like, not just being on your world?" There'd be a lot of adjusting all over again, he's sure.

Sam hasn't thought just about getting home in a while now. He's gotten himself caught up in this war - an easy thing to do, when just about all of the people he cares about are here - and honestly, even if he could get home right now, he probably wouldn't, not without seeing all this through.

But this? This has him thinking about it, as more than just a longterm goal.

"You're kidding me with that question, right?" Sam teases, making a sound somewhere between a snort of amusement and a huff of disbelief. "If you're coming back to my world, hell yeah you're staying with me. That'd be part of the point."

It would be for Sam, anyway. That he wouldn’t have to say goodbye to another person who’d become like family.

Conversely, he never did give no thought on motherfuckers leaving. All this work and changing himself only to keep others near, and he never even fucking fathomed that others would be apt to go. Not everyone had on fuck all or worse to return to.

He was going to stay here. He didn't know what exactly he'd do, but he was intending to stay. Maybe he'd preach. Keep himself trained of course-- his lifespan was a long one, and seeing only one war in his lifetime was something laughable-- but otherwise live in peace. Whatever that felt like.

Knowing he'd go back if he stays here though? That's not something he wants anything to do with. If going with Sam means he loses less, means he ain't gotta go back, he'll take that whole new mystery.

He laughs again, joyous, and gives one more bump of his head.

Then his grin starts to fade. The child of him gets buried under the sweeps he's put on. He starts to untangle slow and he says, "THANKS." Just once more. "...We still still got a job what to take on care of though. THESE MOTHERFUCKERS... THEY NEED A LEADER. Not this." He swallows, laughs without humor. Then shakily, he starts to rise, worn by all what's gone down. What now? What way is he gonna fall now what ain't the war general? He guesses He'll have to see.

Edited 2015-04-14 02:53 (UTC)

It's hard, watching that happiness and the little peeks that Sam can see of the kid that Kurloz still is fade away. Harder still that there's not a damn thing he can do about it. This is a war, and Kurloz is a leader. Neither of them can afford to forget that.

So he rises up with him, though he pulls him back in for another quick hug before he lets go.

"Being a leader doesn't mean you gotta be perfect, man. You don't have to be strong all the time, you know? It's okay to break down every once in a while - that's what you've got us for. Don't forget that, okay?"

The hug puts him off balance and steadies him all the same. He reaches back to hug as well, before finally forcing himself to stand straight. Sometimes he hates being so tall, mostly when he's like this and doesn't feel big enough for his own form, whole enough to move it.

"I'LL TRY." He smiles weakly. "S'what I'm always doing ain't it? WHAT WE'S ALL DOING. Just gotta keep trying."

This was what he was fighting for. For all of them.

So he tells himself, don't forget that, and promises one day, once more, to write it in voodoo over his heart.

He heads unsteady out the alley, into that bright sunlight, and with Sam at his side, he braces for the future.

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So I set out across that way to strike them down, to make them pay

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