The Initiate Fraysong ♑ (Young GHB) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
carnagecarnival) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-03-07 05:29 pm
carnagecarnival) wrote in thecapitol2015-03-07 05:29 pm
Entry tags:
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
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
no subject
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.
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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."
no subject
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.
no subject
“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.”
no subject
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
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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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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.”
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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.