[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.

[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?"

[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."

[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?

[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."

[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.

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.