(OPEN) a vial of hope and a vial of pain

[crabmunicator]

Who| Karkat and OPEN
What| Karkat finally returns after the Binding plot.
Where| Around the tower.
When| Around when Sigma's announcement happens & afterward.
Warnings/Notes| Mentions of police brutality and brainwashing.

It's a little after Karkat has stepped back into the Tower that the announcement comes up over some monitor or several, demanding attention. He should have expected this, but he's feeling disoriented enough that it takes him a moment to process what it is. Sigma is no one he's ever met, so that part doesn't matter, but the subject of rebels and anti-Capitol plot filters through and tethers his attention.

He can tell the Capitol slant in how it's worded and presented, and a part of him still hates them for it, but the sharpest part is what he already knew: the Initiate brought this all. As much as he wants Panem to change, as much as he wants freedom for his fellow Tributes, he's never going to forgive the Initiate for trying to turn it into something for him to take over.

He shudders at the end and turns to move forward.

A. The Lobby

It's a bit hard to miss Karkat on his return. Though washed and dressed in fresh, clean clothing, he walks with a noticeable limp and a slight wobble besides. For all his gunshots to his right thigh were finally tended in the end, you don't go three days with little more than scraps of your disguise to bind them without having a lot of soreness left over. It's only by virtue of being a troll that he didn't come out worse for it. But beyond that is a general soreness, left over from the roughness of the Peacekeepers during his imprisonment. His sleeves are long, his pants covering, and they hide the extent of the bruises he bears.

Still, a tired, limping, dizzy tribute is not a steady one, and if not spotted on his own - either during the broadcast, or after as he makes his way to the elevators - then he's bound to get attention when he bumps into people.

"Shit, sorry," he mumbles. He's not trying to hit anyone, but his legs just won't cooperate.

B. District Six

Eventually he makes it back to his district. He's been missing for three days, easily noticeable for the lack of grumping, shouting, and orange horns going around. And it's here for a while that he stays, aiming first to shuffle off to his room to lay the fuck down, if no one stops him first - but it's not like no one can knock on his door.

Sooner or later, though, once he's feeling less of the weird nausea that's bothered him since the end of his imprisonment, he heads back out into the kitchen and then the common area. Winces and swears come from the former as he digs through the fridge for an orange, and eventually he settles himself on a couch in the latter, picking off bits of peel and pith with a claw. Some inane talk show plays on the television, but he's not watching it. Not really.

C. First Floor Restaurant

It's later after his stomach has shown that it can keep the orange down that Karkat decides he wants a real meal. Three days of bread and water will do that to you, and so after another limping trip down, he brings himself in to the restaurant off from the lobby and sets to ordering something.

"Yes, just the soup--no, no bread--no crackers--no sandwich, just the soup, alright? If I'm still hungry I'll order something else," he huffs at a concerned-looking waitress, who had been trying to ply him with are you sure?s and you look awful hungry. Good intents, to be sure, but he doesn't want to touch bread for a week. He doesn't dare tell why.

D. The Roof

With being stuck on house tower arrest until the next arena, Karkat ends up spending a lot of his time on the roof. Furnishings inside may be comfortable enough, but it gets stuffy, and he's had enough of being stuck inside to last him for a good while. The roof at least has fresh air and a view of the sky, and he heads up day or night to sit, watch the city, and most often read.

Did you want that other chair? Too bad, because he's too busy tugging it over with his good foot so that he might prop his right one on the seat. It feels better for his leg, and the less soreness he has, the better he can enjoy the trashy romance novel he's currently stuck his nose in.

E. District 9 (Closed)

Between everything else, sometime after making it back to his floor, getting some food and drink in him, and laying on his actual bed for a while, Karkat gets back up to visit this District. He's still sore and tired, but those things are weighed out by the need to visit his important people and communicate the fact that he's not dead or Avoxed. Three days may not equal the week he was gone after last arena, but it's three days after the Initiate's plan went off and the broadcast from Sigma Klim can't have eased worries.

It takes him a while to get up - most of his time in jail was spent sitting around to keep from worsening his wounds, so he's not yet used to walking on his hurt leg - but get there he does. Elevators help, thank fuck; he doesn't want to think about stairs for another week. And from there it's not too far to one of the doors he intends to visit.

He knocks with the back of his hand, but doesn't call any greeting. There will be time enough to talk once he's inside and sat down.

Comments

[crabmunicator]

Karkat's heard tell of the forcefield before, something he has no desire to test, but even knowing it's there doesn't stop his stomach from dropping when he sees his Mentor casually stroll up, climb, and hang off the rail like a fucking lunatic. May it suffice to say he's lost interest in his book.

"Jegus, would you get up from there?" he calls over. Of course he knows he's in trouble, and an official pardon doesn't change that. "I'll give up my hoofrest if you'll just sit down in a chair like a normal person. Then you can come berate me as much as you want, or whatever you're here to say to me."

[dead_black_eyes]

The forcefield is there, and it's absolutely necessary. Anyone in the Tower who decides to jump or gets a little too drunk and cocky will be stopped by a flexible barrier designed to fling them back on the roof, a little bruised perhaps, but no one has died yet with the mechanism. Even when they've tried to.

"Do you know about bats?" Linden calls loudly, blatantly ignoring Karkat's pleading. "They're not that common in Panem, anymore, but apparently they used to be everywhere. They hang upside-down like this when they sleep, and when they shit, they turn all the way over and hang by their thumbs."

Thankfully, he doesn't look like he's going to emulate this.

He pulls himself up with surprising core strength for someone of his wiry build, though the effort seems to tire him out. His face is flushed from the blood all having rushed to his head, but once he's upright again, it fades quickly, leaving him with the same bone-white shade his skin usually possesses.

"I came up to talk to Nill," he admits. "But since you're here instead, I guess there's something we should address, and it's probably better if you start. You're incredibly lucky you weren't Avoxed."

[crabmunicator]

"The only bats I know about right now is that you're batshit up the fricking belfry for hanging like that," he snaps back, leaning forward in his chair for all it sends a twinge through his sore spots. But then he's pulling himself up, thank god, and Karkat allows himself to relax just a little. He motions over with both hands, then carefully lowers his foot off the other chair.

He heard what he said, though. He's not really surprised.

"I know I am, and I'm not going to waste anyone's time by trying to be cocky about any of it. I have nothing to be cocky about," he says first. There's still a lot of tension left in him, and it's not going anywhere soon. "I got brainwashed into something stupid and caught at it, and it was my own fault for trusting a fucking clown in the first place when I knew better. If they didn't figure out what he was up to I would have still believed him, and have my tongue out or be dead for it."

And the thing is, he believes every word he says, and it shows in his tone. There's no sly coverup, no careful choice of phrase, everything too immediate and earnest for him to just be using the Capitol coverup. Worse, he hates himself for it, and it's likely that shows through too. He was never good at hiding his self-loathing; he never much tried in the first place. But there's something beckoning still to his tone: an unspoken please believe me. He knows what danger he was in, and he doesn't need someone favoring a clown over him again.

[dead_black_eyes]

"There's no danger, and it's actually very relaxing," Linden says stiffly, unimpressed with how easily Karkat calls his Mentor insane to his face in that tone of voice. When the chair's free, he lowers himself into it, leaning forward and resting his elbows against to the top of his skinny thighs.

"You're right. Being cocky at this point would be incredibly stupid," he agrees bluntly. "Your best bet is to lie low, keep your nose clean..."

His words die on his lips as Karkat continues. Brainwashed? Linden doesn't disagree, but from the sounds of it, by the wrong people.

"Clown?" he presses carefully. "Are you referring to Initiate?"

[crabmunicator]

"Relaxing for you, maybe," Karkat answers back, shameless over what he said. Still, better to have him sitting, and it's easier to talk to someone in a chair next to him.

Linden's confusion, however, has his eyebrows knitting.

"Yes? Who the fuck else?" he asks, searching his face. "You saw the broadcast that Sigma guy made, didn't you? You would have to be blind not to. It was him; it was him the whole time. He got me in the space arena and made me believe him--made me think he actually cared about being less than a subjugglator shitheel."

He had got his foot in the door, anyway, using Terezi as leverage for him. That's the part where this mess has anchored so easily in him. Before he had only spoken with him once, and that incident had wound up with him lifted and slammed against a wall, with only Nill's intervention to spare them from peacekeepers. His hornless state in the arena following might have been what drew his attention, but he should have known better than to let that fucker use his chucklevoodoos on his mind, and the blame eats at him like acid.

That need for belief hasn't faded from his face, either. Clowns have hurt enough people in his life - friends, strangers, on down to himself - and he doesn't want someone else ensnared by his like.

[dead_black_eyes]

"I saw," Linden replies, keeping his poker face in place. "It's very unfortunate that you got caught up in that mess. Unfortunate that anyone did, really."

Unfortunate that you got caught, he doesn't say.

"Your punishment could have been much worse. It's very, very fortunate that they realize you were brainwashed and acting against your will. Otherwise you could have ended up Avoxed like him."

No condoning, no condemnation. Just facts, presented for Karkat to take how he will.

[crabmunicator]

"I know," he repeats. His arms fold and his head tips down. "I spent most of my life before this place having to hide who I am because I could have been killed just for existing on my planet, for some genetic fucking defect that's not supposed to happen. You think I didn't spend those days I was gone thinking about that? If they hadn't realized what Makara did to me and hadn't fixed it, I know exactly how I would have wound up. I saw that post about the new laws, and just because I didn't say anything to the guy who told us doesn't mean otherwise."

He feels like he's been drawn sharp and tight. There's so much stress and hate and anger for what happened to him sitting under the brittle surface, and he knows he's going to have to keep it in anyway. Maybe Linden is doing this because he has to, but everything still feels so fresh that even bare facts sting his wounds.

Inhale, exhale: the slow draw of breath steadies him, and he wills the anger he wants to let out to lie smooth as a still pond.

"I was used and betrayed by a clown, and when I gave the one here a chance he brainwashed me to try to tear things down to build himself a new throne. I learned my lesson, Linden."

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden always finds it interesting when Karkat goes into detail about the place he came from and the relationships he sustained before ending up in Panem; he's conscious of it, if only because it's very different from the way he feels he'd treat it in the young Troll's place. Maybe that many years of hiding who he was makes him eager to be himself now, as unmistakably as possible, which Linden would understand, having lived with being "that Victor Lockhearst" and little else in the minds of others. It defined him, set him apart, and made him inaccessible.

"I don't pretend to know or understand what you went through where you came from; what concerns me is what occurs here," he says, opting to stay on the safe side. That's what this is all about, staying on the safe side, and the more Karkat talks about things that could hurt him, the more the Capitol's people in charge can use it against him in the next Arena. Provided, of course, that he makes it that far.

"What lesson is it that you learned, Karkat?" he asks, wanting to hear it in the Troll's words.

[crabmunicator]

All he says is safe and sensible, but dry and distant at the same time, uncomfortable still. He can't ask for more, though. It fits the situation and their standing against each other, and his own turmoil isn't Linden's job to mind.

With a sigh he answers, "Never trust a Makara." That part's easy and sharpest in mind. Each time he thought one could be better than what they had shown him, they came back to bite him for that trust. "Watch myself." And because the Capitol is listening, "Don't get involved in something stupid."

[dead_black_eyes]

It sounds easy and sharp; maybe too much, so. These things are rarely so cut and dried, and as far as Linden can tell, Initiate was a hero, maybe even a martyr for a cause greater than himself that the oppressed and beleaguered citizens of Panem can only stand to benefit from. His sacrifices are everyone's shared boon, aren't they?

"You know his fate, do you not?" he asks softly. "It's been broadcast nearly nonstop since he was captured. Perhaps you take pleasure in it?"

[crabmunicator]

"Of course I know," he snaps, this time sounding irritated. "It broadcast as soon as I got back, and it was impossible to miss even if I was dizzy as fuck then."

Then with a sigh his shoulders slip down a notch, and his eyes drop away. "I'm still getting used to it. Just what happened to me, let alone him. And I'm not anywhere close to happy, but you will have to excuse me if I don't have a neat, packaged answer on how I feel right now." He huffs. "To be honest, I don't really want to talk about it."

[dead_black_eyes]

"Of course. You must have very complicated feelings about the whole matter," he concurs. It's awful not being able to say everything he feels about this, but having grown up in Panem, he's never really known that freedom anyway.

Still, there's one other thing he wants to ask, even if Karkat seems like he really wants to drop the subject. "I'll respect your wish, just... humor me just a little longer. You must also realize that some in the Districts will see Initiate's actions and his fate as those of a martyr. You don't feel that way, do you?"

[crabmunicator]

"Fuck no." His gaze snaps up, and there's anger, real anger. His posture sits tense again; his eyes have narrowed. "That behemoth leaving only wanted to tear this place down to make something for himself. He brainwashed me into this under false pretenses and played everyone like a goddamn string howler. He lied, and pretended to be better, and made out like he changed from the guy he was supposed to end up as on our planet, but he's the same person. He's a Makara same as any, and the last one murdered me."

It's gone beyond anger: that's hate in him, bright and boiling over. He's breathing harder at the end and it might as well be the steam.

Using the chair arms for leverage, he pushes up to stand.

"He's not a martyr, and anyone who thinks he is is deluding themself."

[dead_black_eyes]

At the very least, no one could possibly mistake Karkat for being a sympathizer sounding like this. The vitriol sounds genuine, and Linden's relieved that it's one less thing he has to worry about. Then again, the Capitol is fantastic at brainwashing, so how much of that is actually Karkat talking is still unclear.

The Troll's agitated. Linden knows to back off, as he's being given some very unambiguous clues in that direction.

"I'm sorry he pretended to be better and didn't come through. That must be disappointing."

He makes it as clear as possible that he's not going to say anything more about it unless Karkat wants to, which... given this level of animosity, who knows? He might actually want to get some things off his chest despite saying he's sick of talking about it. As long as it won't endanger him, who is Linden to steer away from an uncomfortable or difficult topic?

[crabmunicator]

"Disappointing?" His eyebrows wrinkle up. "Oh yes, when a guy metaphorically stabs me in the back, it's the cool, bitter taste of disappointment that fills my mouth."

He had thought to maybe pick up his book and leave, but that notion is gone, at least for the moment, swept away with the wide gestures of his hands.

"At least Gamzee had the most twisted application of the word dignity to yet disgrace my lingual flap to look me in the eye when he literally stabbed me through the chest." His palm pats against it, one side then the other, corresponding with the circles of the Cancer sign. He's dressed down, and he's going to be staying plain for a while after this. "At least Gamzee didn't pretend he cared and dumped me straight up when he shoved his head too far up his ass--whoops! I mean into his 'religion'." He mimes quotes. "What should I have expected, right? Everyone knows praising the Messiahs and the wicked murdermirth of the Dark Carnival is going to end well for the whole party!

"But him--" And here his teeth bare, flashing their rounded points as he bites out each word. "'Initiate Fraysong', and fuck him for having a title--he pretends like he's anything different. He makes me give him a shot for Terezi's sake, when I should have known from the start that her and another clown would never end well. I mean, Gamzee only tried to kill her! So what's another Makara twisting her spine around his finger? She defended him when he slammed me into a wall, for fuck's sake, but that bulgebiter turned me around enough in that arena with his chucklevoodoos and empty promises that I thought maybe I might give him a chance and set things back on neutral ground.

"Then comes the Crowning, with all its stained glass windows showing the story of my ancestor's life, and of course there's ones with him in it. And he feeds me this big stupid story about how he came here and the people around him slowly got him to change, that there was something worth here being different for, and he played it all humble like it was everyone else he wanted to help." His eyes roll.

"Of course I bought the whole of it, and when this came up..."

He trails off there. He can't say what exactly went down, not for safety's sake. Initiate might have been a traitor, but there were other people involved who didn't know any better, who meant well.

"... What choice did I have? He brought me into believing him with his mind powers and didn't give me one chance to apply a singular bit of logic to what he might be doing, and if not for him being caught I am positive my reward would have been painting the gutters red." It might not mean as much to Linden unless he paid attention at the Signless's Crowning, but Karkat still carries a self-loathing vitriol when he spits out that color.

"So yes, Linden, my reaction is disappointment." He straightens up, something cynical and tired in his eyes. "Gosh, Initiate, couldn't you have been upfront when you screwed over every sense of trust I had? Even the Empress relayed it straight when she decreed my reward for helping her would be slavery. For shame."

He finally picks up his book just as he drops the sarcastic tone.

"Fuck you for saying that. I don't know what kind of betrayal you've dealt with in your life, but when someone messes with my head and proves summarily what a panrotted idiot I was for giving him any chance, it's not disappointment my feelings react with."

[dead_black_eyes]

If Linden was expecting to trigger any sort of venting or rant, he admittedly wasn't prepared for what he's evidently unleashed. Karkat goes off in a way that makes it clear his grudge against Initiate goes back long and far, and that he has quite a lot to say about it. The Mentor, who is usually soft-spoken and a man of fewer words, takes it all in and pieces together what he lacks in context to the best of his limited ability.

Furious. Bitter. Betrayed. Disappointed, times a thousand. Though he was high out of his mind at the Signless' Crowning, it means something to him. He's not survived this long by totally checking out every time he shoots up, and he'd admittedly spent most of his time at that particular event taking in the stained glass images.

He crosses his bony arms loosely in front of his chest, leaning back against the guardrail, seeming untroubled by Karkat's insult. "You're right," he says hollowly. "You don't know, but I'm sort of famous for it, actually? You can ask anyone in Panem."

Unspoken, but weirdly barbed and clear, are the words except for me.

"Ask Nill, for that matter. She cares more about understanding what actually happened there more than most Capitolites, let alone offworlders."

But don't let it keep you from your reading.

[crabmunicator]

A snarl edges out of him, his attitude clearly not tempered by Linden's cool.

"Well, excuse me for not prying into your past on my own time!" His empty hand flings up. "If I had known you expected me to dig into all your traumas and know everything, then I would have sat my ass down for suffering a long time ago. How about I go down now and watch the highlight real, then come back and needle you over every moment? Did anyone die for you? Did you have to kill people? No wait, don't spoil the surprise!"

He'd kick the chair if his leg weren't injured.

"And don't tell me to go ask Nill. I don't need a relay for your awful past when I've got my own life to sort out, and it's not her job to tell me for you."

[dead_black_eyes]

Lindens' cool can be taken a step further and described as frosted; it's glazed in place, every bit a mask that Karkat's snarl does nothing to budge aside.

"I think the words you're looking for are 'I'm sorry,'" he replies softly.

[crabmunicator]

If Linden is frosted, Karkat's a burning coal.

"Nope!" He flings up his hands, and despite the book in one manages to raise both middle fingers. "Take that apology and sit on it, nookwipe! I'm out."

And finally he turns to limp off to the elevator. He's going to go order some kind of extravagant sundae from the restaurant downstairs if Linden lets him go. In his judgement he deserves it after this mess.

[dead_black_eyes]

If Karkat looks back at Linden at any point while he's storming out, he'll see him taking out a cigarette and lighting it. Those fingers are trembling, but it's the kind of detail that a person has to be close and observant to pick up on. That applies to much of what Linden does, actually; someone who holds his cards as close to his chest as the former Victor doesn't let such things slip out lightly or obviously.