[OPEN]

[xanthous]

Who| The Psiioniic, the other trolls, and YOU! It might lean heavily towards trolls, but anyone is welcome to join them!
What| Watching the final week of the Games.
Where| The Training Center common area.
When| Final week!
Warnings/Notes| Trolls everywhere. And also mentions of violence, death, and etc in passing.

It's probably not unusual for people to group together and watch the violence unfolding. The Psiioniic certainly doesn't see why it would be strange, and he looks remarkably unimpressed as a recap plays some especially gory scenes. He seems to be prepared for a crowd, with plates of food nicked from the District 2 suites scattered around him. He even prepared a sign for his little shindig:


Of course, most people won't be able to read the sign, and do you even know how long it took him to find a marker even close to the proper shade of yellow? Too long, that's what. But now he's prepared for the final cullwatch, and ready to spend time with members of his species. And people who might be curious as to what the hell he's scrawled on the sign.

(You would think something like "fiinal cullwatch" is pretty self-explanatory, but you could never be sure with aliens.)

Comments

[carnagecarnival]

Stop being stupid. They're in a culling game. They're Alternians. Germs are the least of their problems.

He rolls his eyes. 'A different universe'. No, he shall not stop hating science and everyone is just going to have to deal with it. Come back to him when you wish to talk about a paradise carnival.

"SEEMS A HELMSMAN IS MOST ENLIVENED, in act of discourtesy to a motherfucking captain," he laughs, in regards to the Helmsman's pout. "THINK IT FUNNY YOU STILL CALLED AT HIM SIR when motherfucking yet..." He gives a vague gesture, to represent the Helmsman's distaste for their queen.

"WRITE OF HIS OWN HE UP CAN COULD. Ain't the same still," he says. "AIN'T MOTHERFUCKING TANGIBLE." The idea is interesting, but he can't imagine any good coming from keeping a goddamn private journal.

[xanthous]

Germs can be just as deadly as a knife!!

"There'th a differenthe between thomeone like you, and thomeone who kept you ath a pet," he grumbles, pout staying firmly in place.

He nudges the Initiate with his knee. "Ithn't telling thtorieth what you're thuppothed to do? You can write down the thtorieth of your Methiath." He pauses, thinking it over. "You could teach thomeone Alternian."

[carnagecarnival]

You can't have seen the blade end of many knives then, Helmsman.

"Is there?" he asks with a tilt of his head. He doesn't actually think of the Helmsman as a pet-- why the fuck would he even need a pet? But it's curious to hear a lowblooded troll say as much. "SURPRISED AT HIM IS ALL, THAT HE WOULDN'T UP AND FIGURE I AMONG WHAT HE CALLS HIS CAPTORS. Called him a Highblood, and her unfuckingpleasent. GOT TO WONDER AT WHY."

He allows the nudge, nudging back, and laughs, "Telling stories. PREACHING OF TRUTHS, HELMSMAN. And he's already got at them," He taps his skull with a finger, "in motherfucking pan. IF HE WERE TO RECALL IN ANY FUCKING CASE, a Helmsman's first words to him were that he doubted in finding faithful here, WAS IT NOT?" It's a tease. He stores the idea away despite it. It won't change the fact that he'll be left with nothing new to read still, but it's an interesting idea. As is the latter of what he said.

"There's a motherfucking thought." Whom he might teach he's not sure, but it could lend itself useful if he found the right person to teach it to. And there's no way they could speak it, he can tell already these humans don't have the right vocal bits, but in writing, maybe. "AND IN TEACHING OF LANGUAGE THE MESSIAHS' WORD IS ALSO TAUGHT." His grin grows wide. "Should've never been rigged, Helmsman, got far more motherfucking use out of a helm."

[xanthous]

Of course not, he has optiic bla2t2. Had them, at least.

"Yeth. There ith a huge, huge differenthe." He waves his hands, torn between wanting to scream and vent out every little hurt and frustration and emotion he had to keep inside, and his need to stay loyal stay quiet stay obedient. "You haven't tried to break me," he murmurs quietly, hands dropping to his knees.

Snort. "You can make thome faithful, then. Find thomeone and thchoolfeed them in how to be a troll, from language to the methiath."

His eyes widen, and he worries at his bottom lip. "I'm not...thure if that'th true, but. Thank you, Highblood."

[carnagecarnival]

Well then isn’t he in for a wild ride with these games.

Already, pretty motherfucking broken, looks like, he also doesn't say. He's not going to pry. He's not this motherfucker's moirail. "IN A GAME OF DEATH AND SURVIVAL, HELMSMAN, AS FUCKING BEFORE. Got higher motherfucking priority," he says instead, looking down as he sweeps a pile of popgrubs closer.

He gives a snort of his own. “AH. See at how it is. NOW a faithless finds fatih. NOW HE GETS IN HIS PUMPER HOLY BELIEF THAT A PREACHER MAY FIND THOSE IN TUNE WITH THE GREAT WORKINGS," he chuckles. "Fair motherfucking thought on that also. IF IMPUDENCE IS NOT OFFENDING, there may be some."

He looks up and stares a moment at that, then shoves more floor-popgrubs in his jaws. Finally he says, "Fraysong is motherfucking fine."

[xanthous]

The wildest.

He picks at the knees of his pants, dropping his gaze. "What doeth one like yourthelf need to worry about? You will perform well in thethe gameth." Certainly better then the Psiioniic will.

"There are thertainly plenty of malleable youthth here," he murmurs, trying to force a casual smile. His mind wanders, and he desperately hopes the Highblood's mercy doesn't run thin soon. He knows the followers of the Messiahs can be just as volatile as he is, and he hopes that speaking of spreading the face won't end with him bled dry to make paint.

He glances up at him for a moment, before turning back to his knees. "Alright, thir."

[carnagecarnival]

"FLATTERING," He says, with a smirk. "But death comes for all. EVERY SINGLE MOTHERFUCKING ONE. To motherfucking deny is careless. AN INSULT TO DEATH. But in same thought, there is none what to worry of, for the carnival shall await the worthy. INTEND TO EARN IT, I DO." Not to say he won't enjoy himself, no, he imagines he full well will. But that wasn't what the Helmsman had commented upon.

"Plenty what would get in the motherfucking way too," he grumbles, more to himself, just briefly thinking of the Signless and some of the other slightly less infuriating ones here.

He narrows his eyes at the Helmsman, a frown playing on his lips. He reaches over then and roughly flicks the Helmsman's chin up with a finger. "JUST GAVE AT YOU PERMISSION TO BE LESS MOTHERFUCKING FORMAL and more is what you take to." Relax, he just manages not to say.

[xanthous]

"You have probably one of the betht thhotth at winning." He flicks some popgrubs at him. "If anyone could cull all the retht it would be you."

He purses his lips, nodding. He has no doubts that Signless would disapprove of the Initiate taking up a mission to spread his beliefs, but - there's also no doubt that the Signless will try spreading his own.

He starts at the touch to his chin, eyes going wide. "I'm thorry." It's an instantaneous reaction, and his cheeks color just the slightest yellow.

[carnagecarnival]

"WOULD ALMOST THINK AT YOU MISLEADING, HELMSMAN. Not got no motherfucking cull hold of your own what you don't want to share?" He catches the flicked ones and eats them. He's not entirely joking; he's heard of trolls pretending to be harmless only to burn down hivestems. Never was his style, but it seemed an effective strategy if done right.

The rush of yellow is a little alarming. He's not quite sure what to make of it. He's starting to feel awkward himself, so he shakes it off as best he can before it can sink in any further. He looks back to the screen and says, "DO WHAT YOU MOTHERFUCKING WILL THEN. Call at him whichever title."

[xanthous]

"Not here, no." He gives him a lopsided smile, not really wanting to talk about his time in the arena. "Though...before, there hath been a few."

He picks at the popgrubs, not hungry (not like his stomach has approved of eating much, either) but feeling like he needs to do something with them. "I'll pick one thoon, heh."

[carnagecarnival]

"DON'T EXPECT A HELMSMAN TO SHARE, but still wonder, what of an ambition unto his own motherfucking self to claim a supposed victory?" he mulls aloud. Obviously the Helmsman had culled before. Who hasn't culled before? Save these not-trolls. You don't survive without having culled and the Helmsman was clearly alive before him. He wonders briefly what would render said kills so boring so as to never have been mentioned when he'd asked for a tale before, but then, a troll can hardly remember every single cull that's done.

He smiles, crooked. "AS SPOKEN ON ALREADY; do what you will."

[xanthous]

He picks at his sleeves, shaking his head. He's wearing clothes similar to what he wore at the training center - long, over-sized clothing that seems to swallow him and multiple layers. He wants to hide himself away from all of the attention he gets, and he's still ashamed of how he looks. "Then I thuppothe you'll keep wondering. Your imagination would probably be more entertaining than the truth."

[carnagecarnival]

He frowns, like a spoiled child being told, no, they cannot have one more chapter before bed. All the phrases of Oh, c'mon' and 'that's not fair' wanting to come free but he bites them back. He turns back to the recaps with a huff.

He hasn't any worry about his future in the games. He survived the brooding caverns and he's survived all to the motherfucking now. And according to the Helmsman, after as well. The Messiahs would do as they may; he was and would still be a part of the grander plan. One way or another.

[xanthous]

He spends the time the Initiate is turned to stand up, joints creaking and aching. Ow. He definitely should not have been kneeling for so long. (He used to be able to kneel for hours while he cleaned his Master's hive when he was forced to do it without his psionics, but that was so many sweeps ago.)

"Do you want anything elthe to eat or drink, Fraythong?" He's finding their conversation oddly enjoyable, and he doesn't want it to just end.

[carnagecarnival]

He turns to look up at him, at first think he's intending to leave. Then he says that, (and the chosen part of his title, the part that hadn't been picked for him) and Fraysong grins.

"UNLESS HE'S GOT AT HIM SOME ELIXER IN THAT MOTHERFUCKING MESS AT WHAT THEY CALL CLOTHING, haven't a particular want in mind," he says. He is the biggest hypocrite to call someone out for a mess of clothing, sitting there in what could very well be pyjama pants, and a shirt of stripes, both torn in places. "GET WHAT YOU WANT."

[xanthous]

"I'm afraid I don't," he answers with a small smile. He grabs himself a glass of water, sliding down next to the Initiate and leaning his head against the wall.

"Do you...Do you think thith cullwatch wath a good idea?"

None of the humans have.

[carnagecarnival]

He makes a face at the question.

"Why wouldn't it up and be? CHANCE FOR ENTERTAINMENT. Chance to get glimpse early at what is to be faced. WHO SHOULD BE CULLED FIRST AND HOW. Ain't precognitive; can only take advantage at what future glimpses be given," he says. "MOST INTERESTING THING WHAT'S UP AND CLAIMED TO HAPPENING."

[xanthous]

"Well, everyone elthe theemth to be getting their undergarmentth in a twitht over it." He makes a face right back at the Initiate, wrapping his arms around his legs. "I don't underthtand that. Why would they thhow thith if everyone ith jutht going to get mad over it?"

[carnagecarnival]

"Bruised egos?" He suggests with a snort. "TAKING SHAME IN DEATH? Unhappy at the show of weakness what to aim for next? BUT SHOW THEY UP AND DO. All the more motherfucking reason to laugh and observe. LET THEM BE MAD. Fuck them." He doesn't see why their opinions count anyway.

[xanthous]

"They are pretty touchy about the violenthe." He shift, resting his chin on his knees. It's not the most comfortable position in the world, but he feels...remarkably alright with it. "All anyone doeth hath been complain about how thith ith tho wrong, and horrible, like they can't imagine anything worthe than thith thtupid game."

[carnagecarnival]

"MOTHERFUCKING NAIVE," he agrees. "Almost to point of insult. PERHAPS HE SHALL SOON GIVE TASTE. Alternian. MESSIAHS BLESSED. Show at them to be motherfucking grateful. BUT THE RULES AIN'T CHANGED, DON'T YOU KNOW. Learn, OR DIE. Adapt, or be MOTHERFUCKING CULLED. Is that not the way of it? NOT HOW IT'S ALWAYS UP AND BEEN?" He says. He looks over how small the Helmsman seems to look, especially like that, then looks elsewhere. "A motherfucker must up and look after what is all to be his own. AIN'T A DAMN THING MORE TO IT."

[xanthous]

"Tho are you thaying you're going to take the arena by forthe and win?" The Psiioniic wants the Initiate to win, and he's not sure why. It would mean dying over and over again, but he welcomes death. Indigos are notoriously unstable, and he worries that the Initiate will go pancracked going in and out of the arena over and over again.

[carnagecarnival]

"Would suppose that to be the motherfucking plan, yes," he replies. "SHOULD MESSIAHS WILL IT." He isn't particularly worried one way or another. Especially knowing they come back. Honestly, he's not far from weighing whether he'd enjoy himself more going through it all over and over than staying a capitol pet should he win. But then he'd have to let people kill him and of course he has no intention to let that motherfucking get it's occurrence on.

He wonder's what the Helmsman might think of that implication, but really, he's certain they're both aware he may have to kill the yellowblood at one point or other. Why point out what's obvious?

[xanthous]

He shakes his head, glancing over to one of the TVs and watching the dragon. He shouldn't be concerned. He shouldn't worry about anything happening to the Initiate - to the troll that will grow to be the Grand Highblood. He shouldn't.

But he is.

Maybe it's just because the Initiate is too young, or maybe it's because it's his duty to make sure his superiors live long and healthy lives, but he doesn't want the troll to go through arena after arena. "I am thure they are on your thide completely."

[carnagecarnival]

"Of course," he says, genuinely smiling, for all that counts with how his fangs and paint appear. "BUT THE RINGMASTERS WILL LEAD WHERE THEY WILL. Ain't always to what one up and motherfucking expects, brother. AIN'T ALWAYS TO THE QUICK. He will follow where they will it. NO MATTER AT WHERE IT IS ALL TO BE."

A zealot to the end, Helmsman.