[OPEN]

[carnagecarnival]

Who| The Initiate and YOU

What| An aspiring preacher goes to make some noise

Where| The Training Center

When| Before the party

Warnings/Notes| Swearing all over. General awfulness.

Already he is weary of their pomp and pride, all these aliens swilling about him like they own him, like a bunch of sea-dwellers thinking injudiciously that he is not well above them in all sense of the greater workings. He snarls at the pecking and plucking, snapping his jaws at any who try to touch the paint of his face. He hopes he makes it very clear that if they remove his paint he will replace it's lack through leak of their veins. He has a feeling that they're just a bit too thick to understand. He mourns for his voodoo again and again, feeling somewhat stifled and lost without it in his reach. At least, he thinks upon hearing of the upcoming death-match, there are ways to keep himself busy.

He heads for the Center, leaving shredded bits of clothing and shoes behind in a bread crumb trail for the sorry fucks to find. By the time he gets there, his new tunic is bare of sleeves, the bottoms of his pants are torn, used to create a makeshift armband at each wrist, and his large clawed feet are bare. He's voodoo-less, weapon-less, and though he's just recently grown taller than even true adults, there may always be someone bigger and even a small troll--alien-- could be dangerous. He weighs entering the center with quiet subtlety but decides that, no, he is annoyed, antsy, and teetering on the high wire line of boredom, and that will not motherfucking do.

Cliche or motherfucking not, nothing quite feels like kicking a door open and walking in with your head held high. He gives a grin and offers his best ring-master's bow.

He says, loud enough for those nearby him to hear, "Mirthful believers, FAITHLESS FUCKS; Who can lead a Messiah blessed to find holiest armament? OR SHALL CARNIVAL COME WITHOUT A CLUB'S BLESSINGS?"

Always good to weed out the worthy from heretics early on, he thinks, already amused. He doesn't actually expect help. He heads for the weapons without waiting for response. 

Comments

[sleeplessinalternia]

Karkat had been running himself through the classic sickle forms, as laid down by Troll Nijinsky, when the door was kicked in. The familiar-sounding voice and the sight of the highblood--for there's no mistaking the new troll's caste, not with his size and way of speaking and especially not with that arrogance--causes Karkat to drop his sickles in shock.

"Gamzee?" he breathes. "What the fuck happened to you?"

He may have put on a couple sweeps of growth and he no longer has the sickly sweet smell of sopor on him, but this new highblood troll looks exactly like Karkat's dumb clown of a best friend.

[carnagecarnival]

Karkat isn't the only hit with recognition. There's a split second of sick surprise, followed by confusion, and then a furious snarl has taken the place of both. He is growling audibly as he advances, stalking close with purpose.

"And the piss poorest of jokes shows face in a carnival warped, how MOTHERFUCKING PRUDENT OF HE," growls. "To take in motherfucking sail, the god of bounds. WHO SETS TO SEAS A SHORE. Come to me in his fatal rounds. LIKE THE STUPID SORRY SINNERFUCK HE IS."

He grips Karkat's shirt front and hauls him off his feet. He hisses through his teeth, "Give me reason not rend you asunder now, Jokevein. Perhaps he will save your ticket if weaved motherfucking excuse proves worthy E-FUCKING-NOUGH.

[sleeplessinalternia]

Oh god. Oh fuck. Gamzee's off the sopor and he's become the psychotic killing machine his bloodline had always destined him to be and Karkat may very well die this moment. "Look," he says. "I didn't know the demon would show up, you have to believe me! And I didn't know these capitol humans were going to steal us and please, Gamzee, don't cull me, it's me, Karkat, I'm your friend, your best friend, you even said I was, fuck, please don't cull me."

[carnagecarnival]

"The motherfuck is Gamzee?" he asks, then drops him. He scoffs, "Like fuck you are. LIKE FUCK YOU CALL YOURSELF FRIEND IN HONEST WORD. You wouldn't know at how." He looks down at him like he might a particularly irritating insect-- not much of a stretch considering technically trolls were insects. The Initiate looks Karkat over once, then again. He's the same; it's the same damn horns, the same face, same useless tooth and maw, same voice. A small stunted half-troll. He may even bleed the same sickly hue.

"Tell again your name," he says. "SPEAK IT FUCKING FULL AND CLEAR."

[amourtician]

Jay's loitering around the Centre, watching rather than participating. He's dressed relatively soberly -- by his standards, at least -- but floor-length skirts, however straight, heavy and unadorned and however black, are still not exactly fighting clothes.

He turns around at the sound of the Initiate's voice and freezes in place for a second, admiring him. Tall and loud and weird. Simply mesmerizing!

But just standing there and staring won't do, of course. Jay figures someone like the Initiate wouldn't take note of someone passive, no matter how gaudily made-up or how good-looking (plus, a nasty voice in his head says, what if grey behorned aliens have standards of beauty so different that to them you're hideous?), so he approaches the troll and says, "clubs, darling? That's certainly novel. You prefer a bloodless death?"

[carnagecarnival]

Already, Jay has begun to learn and they haven't even properly met. The Initiate stops his progression and looks Jay over upon his approach. He quirks a brow at Jay's assumption and snorts.

"NOW, WHO THE FUCK EVER SAID AT A CLUBS DANCE BEING WITHOUT THE BLOOD SONG?" He says back, viciously gleeful. He bares his teeth in a grin. "A blue one can't have seen all too motherfucking many a dance. OR PERHAPS A MOTHERFUCKER AIN'T NEVER HAD PROPER HANDLE ON A CLUB AND CULL?"

He looks down at Jay, expectant. The question is a large part mocking-- of course it is, what creature has never culled in their lifetimes, short or stretching?

[amourtician]

"The only sort of clubs I handle, darling," Jay says, coming up just short of uncomfortably close, "tend to be attached to people by means other than a mere grip."

He smiles up at Fraysong, head tilted to one side, eyes hooded. A little voice in his head murmurs but Raimut and he brushes it aside. Raimut isn't here and surely he wouldn't mind? Plus, though he wouldn't admit it while sober and composed, the old man's been steadily getting on his nerves these past few months. A brief change of, ahem, scenery, might be good. At worst, it'd teach him to be thankful for what he has.

Had.

Maybe he' never going back, after all. He shoves that thought into a proverbial dark closet and slams the door on it. Instead, he gives his full attention to the troll.

"I've never killed anyone," he says. "Someone else does my dirty work for me. The benefits of being well-loved by the powerful, eh, dear?"

[carnagecarnival]

Well. Now this was unexpected. The first bit flies over his head, but even he, isolated as he had been in the past, can pick out the tone in that, which really says a lot in itself. Still, a receptive motherfucker is a receptive motherfucker, and carnival of one just isn't the same. Perhaps this one could find something in the mirthful word.

"Wouldn't fucking know," He says. "ALL MY KILLS ARE MY OWN AND UNDER THE MESSIAHS HOLY WORK." He doesn't mention the fact that an absent lusus-guardian was a large part responsible for relying on himself alone. At his point anyway, he doubts he could trust anyone else to do better, lest they be Her Imperial Condescension herself.

It would had to have been highblood like himself then, perhaps a seadweller-- only an alien, not a troll. He assumes a Moirail, a piss poor one, considering the excessive coddling to the point of never having to have killed--he remains baffled at the idea-- or whatever the equivalent would be.

"Seems a motherfucking shame. A MOTHERFUCKING SHAME THAT ALL UP AND SEEMS," He adds. "There is beauty in the cull, BEAUTY LIKE THAT WHAT WOULD HAVE A BROTHER'S LOOKSTUBS SPARK WIDE WITH RIGHTEOUS REVERENCE, and he is missing it. Sounds at a motherfucker was caged. SOUNDS AT A MOTHERFUCKER WAS HELD BACK."

[xanthous]

He's not really sure what's going on. An indigo, one who looks relatively young but that's still much taller then he will ever be, has just stormed into the center. He's not really phased by the ranting, because, well, it's what they do. They're all volatile and loud and with the Grand Highblood's preaching they all say similar crap about mirth and carnivals and messiahs.

So he's not phased by that. Really, he finds the outburst...kind of hilarious. He doesn't bother trying to hide his chuckles, and if the Initiate simply glances to his right he'll find the Psiioniic perched cross-legged on a bench, pawing over a handful of knives.

"I don't think you'll find many faithful here, highblood."

[carnagecarnival]

He would pass over laughter alone, but too many times has a higher priest-- one of home, always one from home, the travelling church always understood the gifts he had and sought to bring for the Messiahs glory, but the home bound kept to it's indulgence and negligence and remained sightless for the real truths-- sought to hassle him by picking apart his words. He turns just enough, to throw the other troll an unimpressed side-glance.

"HENCE, why he motherfucking mentions THE FAITHLESS," He enunciates, then finding his own annoyance demands more, he faces the Psiioniic. "Nit pickers, SHIT KICKERS. You think me plucked blind? Or merely pan-shattered ignorant to the MOTHERFUCKING LACK AMONG THE SKITTERING HORDE? Ain't like it to be any different from anywhere the steeple does not hang. Can see for myself who wears face and not." He gestures wide with his arm to the entire center.

[xanthous]

He waves a dismissive hand, moving the knives to the side. It's probably better to appear harmless and pitiful then like someone who actually poses a threat. He's spent time around many, many highbloods, and if they feel like you're not a challenge then you're probable more likely to survive your encounter. If there's one thing all highbloods like, it's feeling that everyone below them is in their proper place.

"I thimply believe you are the very firtht preacher thith plathe hath." He arches a brow. "You will find only faithleth, becauthe your faith hathn't eckthithted here at all, yet. I guess thith would make you a mithhionary, even if the people he don't want to hear what you have to thay."

[carnagecarnival]

He may have been better off keeping the weapons, at least with this particular highblood. The Initiate has no doubt in his ability to kill the Psiioniic- or anyone- but he appears to him less harmless and more like he's overconfident. He bristles and itches for clubs. But then, being called preacher, when he was not yet, assuages the unease a little.

"IN-MOTHERFUCKING-CORRECT ONCE AGAIN," he says. "Not surprising. YOU ARE NOT THE FIRST FUCKING DISSENTER NOR WILL YOU BE THE MOTHERFUCKING LAST. And the unmirthful always think they know the holier working, ALWAYS KNOW THE HOLIEST MOTHERFUCKING WORKINGS THEY THINK THEY DO."

He weighs whether or not he cares enough to impart to this one, the greater believings. His abnormally large hands clench and unclench in want for a weapon or something to hold. Paint even, the shows always went better with paint, but he has nothing. That's why he's here.

He says, "The faith, the Messiahs, do not need for motherfuckers what to give them voices. THE MESSIAHS SPEAK ALWAYS, AND MOTHERFUCKING SERVE WHAT NEEDS BE DONE THAT THEY WANT AND WISH AND MOTHERFUCKING FIND. And find they always do. And from the broods they will choose WHO IS WORTHY TO HEAR THEIR WORD SHOULD THE MOTHERFUCKERS SEEK THEIR SALVATIONS. Or let it slip. It will not be my problem if they remain deaf. CAN STILL FIND BEAUTY IN THE DEATH OF ALL WHO DENY CHANCE FOR PASSAGE, for ticket to seat."

[pinklady]

"...Um..."

Ok, color this short pink-haired girl completely unimpressed. First off, he broke the door and just started shouting. Second off...

"...Ok?"

She had no idea what this...er...alien thing was saying. What carnival?

[carnagecarnival]

He spots the pink-haired girl and smiles down. His first thought is of an heiress, a tiny bit of cullbait, but one with the great beast of deeps on her side. The wrong pink, he knows now, too light. But pink is pink is motherfucking pink, and here; a fish out of water.

"If a girl is motherfucking confused," He says. "PERHAPS SHE OUGHT TO ASK?"

[pinklady]

Oh, she was an heiress all right. And she was looking up at him, more annoyed by the minute.

"WELL, MAYBE," she responded in kind. "YOU SHOULD EXPLAIN WHY YOU ARE YELLING AND KICKING IN THE DOOR!!??"

[carnagecarnival]

For all her annoyance, he only becomes amused, his smile creeping higher. He came for entertainment and he has not been dissapointed.

"AS SAID, SHE NEED ONLY TO ASK," He says, feigning the smallest of bows with a wave of his hand. "Cause for yelling is that it is way of motherfucking SPEACH, little sister. PUNCTURED BY VOODOO. The sweet motherfucking eb of the fear's tide, carving even from toughest stone. HIGHLY MOTHERFUCKING DOUBT THE SAME OF SHE. As for the door, IT WAS KICKED ONCE, and it has not been kicked again. AND STILL, does she take offence?"

[knifewithnoname]

Pruna was sat doing a quieter activity today, studying plants to learn which one's were poisonous and which ones you could eat. She knew how to make poisons, and could recognise some on sight but wasn't too sure about the edible ones.

She looked up with a frown at the shouting. Oh it was another troll alien, there sure were a lot of those.

"If you do be going to be shouting then at least be using words that do be making sense."

[carnagecarnival]

He snorts lightly and says,"She wields weighty implications, banderole flown high, of an absence. PROMISE YOU GIRL, IT AIN'T A MOTHERFUCKING ABSENCE OF HIS. Have never met you in my life, AND YET YOU EXPECT A HAILING AND HEELING ONLY TO WHATEVER MOTHERFUCKING WORDS YOU SWEAR TO? Can teach-preach what a little sister knows not but there will be no curtailing of his own."

He smirks crookedly, in a way that could just as easily be interpreted as a challenge to her.

[knifewithnoname]

Well she didn't understand most of what he said but she recognized that smile and gave one in return baring her teeth.

"I do no be being your sister."

[tis_allgood]

Cuthbert has been toying with knives and is still playing with one when a new troll appears. The profanity is still somewhat new and he hasn't really clued into the reason for it yet. He's done being surprised by them, but never done being amused by them.

"Insects or no, you're all sailors at heart. The lot of you would make my former weapons master blush, so you would."

Bert won't stop anyone from getting any weapons, but he's definitely going to buzz around and watch other people practice.

[carnagecarnival]

"Furthest fucking thing from a sailor, I am," The Initiate rebukes as he passes, aware Cuthbert refers to his language but nevertheless disregarding the comparison. He searches for a club, feeling their weight, lingering especially long over the larger spiked ones, but grabs two small ones instead and twirls them idly as he returns to give cuthbert a curious look.

"A MOTHERFUCKER IS AWARE OF MY KIND?" He asks.

[tis_allgood]

"I've grasped a horn or two."

And while he's going to skip the part that came after, it is the truth. He's still playing with a throwing knife, tossing it in the air and catching it again.

"But I would watch what I said about mothers, if I were you."

Apologies if I'm slow to get back to this, I at least wanted to tag in!

[thebestoffense]

Oh. Oh my god.

Of all the many kinds of people who could show up and be terrifying, this is the one that happens. The indigo is not subtle, not even a little, and a clamor of conflicted instincts start warring between Volanz's ears immediately.

He should run. But no, that would be incriminating. He hasn't done anything wrong! But he also doesn't want to approach. But that would offend the indigo. He's obvious, he's out here in the open, it would be impossible for the other troll to not notice him standing here like a big Alternian sore thumb with all the humans around. But he really doesn't want to.

And he can't stay here and stare at him forever like an idiot because that's offensive too and will probably get him smacked around and good grief this guy is freaking tall he could probably break Volanz in half without even having to think too hard about it-

He swallows. Hard. It hurts because his throat is dry. His feet move him forward almost automatically, having decided for his confused head.

"I," he begins, voice cracking a bit, and has to try again. "I don't actually think much of this stuff is holy. If any of it. But I am not even a little bit of an expert?"

A nervous pause slides in before he manages to choke out a, "Sir." onto the end of that.

yesssss 8)

[carnagecarnival]

Oh Mirthblessing Messiahs, he doesn't even need his voodoos to taste this one's fear. It is thick in the air, heavy on every word the troll manages to chatter out. One would almost think the voodoos were still with him, and even to imagine such, he revels in it. He stares down with his chin held high and decides that, yes, he might just play with this one.

A devilish smile dances on his lips as the Initiate leans down to Volanz's height and says, "Has a motherfucker never seen a cull of the club?"

Re: yesssss 8)

[thebestoffense]

Somehow, the fact that the indigo can lean down to his height just highlights further to Volanz how utterly screwed he is if this guy gets any bad ideas.

Which he already might have.

Fuck.

"I can't say that I actually have?" he stammers, eyes flicking down in deference. "I mean. If it is me you are talking about."