(no subject)

[xanthous]

Who| The Psiioniic and YOU! Plus the Initiate.
What| The Psiioniic is in the Capitol. Humans are both disgusting and fascinating, and he has a horrible sweet tooth.
Where| The Capitol! Typically near shopping areas.
When| Todayyy.
Warnings/Notes| The Initiate being a violent, creepy clown.

Closed to the Initiate

The Capitol is large and bustling, and the Psiioniic isn't quite fond of it. He's gotten far too used to being alone, with just the stars and space bending around him to be used to anything like this. He stays close to the Initiate, hoping the large, imposing troll will help keep others away.

And he does, for the most part. Or at least the Psiioniic can believe he does, and it gives him a small comfort. He can focus on the objects around him, stopping at a few small shops so he can pick through things with the Initiate by his side.

Open

The Psiioniic has found heaven. Or, well, something close to the troll equivalent.

He's standing in a stall selling a variety of honey and other sweets, and he looks baffled. He's holding a sample spoon, the woman behind the stall looking nervous as he stares at her blankly. He keeps bring the spoon to his lips, chewing on it briefly before asking for another sample.

If someone doesn't stop him he's liable to eat all the honey in the store, and if anyone gets close they'll hear him making odd chirpy noises and see him blinking rapidly. He's just...he's very confused and conflicted over the honey, and he needs help.

Comments

/casually earns that warning

[carnagecarnival]

The Initiate scowls in the brightness of day, snarling at any one who looks at them too long. It's too bright. It's too motherfucking late. Let these aliens burn alive for their motherfucking rihonkulous diurnal schedule, let them be shown the art of the day cull. Tie every single faithless motherfucker to stay as the sun rose and the dead rose with it to eat them alive as they beasts pick at their corpses...

"MOTHERFUCKING EXPLAIN AGAIN SO AS TO LEND FULL AND PROPER UNDERSTANDING; why the motherfuck are we out now?"

He's whining. He couldn't give a damn. He has every right to whine.

8)

[xanthous]

"Becauthe," the Psiioniic mutters, bumping their shoulders together (though with their height difference it's more his shoulder against the Initiate's arm), "thith plathe runth on a backwardth thchedule. If we went at night everything would be clothed up."

He nudges him again, leading him to a stall covered in bright, glittery metals. "It'th not at dangerouth in the day here."

:o)

[carnagecarnival]

The Initiate knows all that but it's still irritating. What could they possibly need that would be worth bearing the squawking human masses? Why couldn't the humans just have things open at night? But he's already out now... He bumps the Helmsman back.

He follows the Helmsman's lead to the glittering stall, just a little curious now. "DON'T MAKE IT more comfortable," he grumbles. Then, grudgingly, he amends, "NICE NOT TO FUCKING BURN THOUGH TRUE. Or watch at for the corpses risen." The fucking corpses. Just one encounter was all it took for him to never sleep unarmed again. This place unfortunately not counting.

♦

[xanthous]

It's a miracle the Psiioniic doesn't fall over at that bump, and he laughs at the Initiate's grumpiness.

"It'th not that bright, and I imagine your hair ith a better thungaurd than mine," he jokes, smiling brightly. It doesn't completely cover the fact that he's so, so nervous around the Initiate. He's...fond of the troll, which is rare for him, but he knows that highbloods, indigos especially, are volatile and he's so afraid of saying or doing something wrong.

He picks through necklaces, wondering why such adornments are so common here. It's strange for him to see so much metal in something that's not a weapon, but he can't deny that the shine doesn't appeal to him.

lmao jerk ♦

[carnagecarnival]

"SURE AS SHIT AIN'T DARK," he retorts.

As the Helmsman busies himself with the necklaces he will likely hear Fraysong snickering to himself close by. He turns to the Helmsman with a very distinct jangling sound. He's got well over five necklaces on his neck, and some more hanging off his arms and wrists. There are even a few looped up and over his horns, draping into his hair. There is a ridiculous amount of jewellery on him and it looks, well, completely ridiculous. He grins wide and extends his arms out to the sides of him. Fraysong laughs, "What say a Helmsman: HE PASS AS A FISHFUCK?"

you love iit ♦

[xanthous]

"Do you need thuncoverth for you eyeth?"

He looks up from the necklaces when the Initiate laughs, and he covers his giggles with a hand. It takes a while for him to stifle them to a point where he can talk, because every time he calms down he notices another ridiculous necklace hanging from him. "Not quite yet. You thtill need jutht a bit more gold, maybe on your fingers."

Though he doesn't really want to pick out rings, because the look the shopkeeper is giving them is bad enough already.

Re: you love iit ♦

[carnagecarnival]

"No," he says quickly, only slightly petulant. "WOULD INTERFERE WITH THE PAINT."

Yeah, those rings... are never going to fit him. Ever. Even if he cared about what any shopkeeper had to say, the rings will just have to be passed. "Glub, glub," he snorts, just once more, before he begins to take all of it off. Or in the case of the ones caught in his hair, try to. He makes a face as he tries to pull one off his horn and ends up taking a large chunk of hair with it. Not a little bit that he can just tear out to save him the trouble of this, a big chunk. It's not even the last one. There's still more. Motherfucker.

Now it's matter of which would still leave him with some pride, tearing his hair out anyway, leaving them in, or struggling with it where the Helmsman, and motherfucking everyone, can see. He's very pointedly not going to look at the Helmsman in any case. If any of these fuckers knew what was good for them, none would say a god-damned word.

[lessthanelementary]

Strange is the only impression Neffa has had of the trolls thus far. He's seen them at a distance, in the Training Center and at parties, diverse in their appearances but similar in their general sense of utterly misplaced foreignness. They seem to him to be even more strangers to this place than most of the Tributes here - his reluctance to approach them has been half out of a healthy fear (he's seen the way one of them works with clubs at training), and half because he has no idea what face any of them might buy.

He's at the honey stall on the recommendation of a Capitol acquaintance, whom he's sure will want to know the next time they meet what he thinks of the honeyed treats she'd told him this place makes particularly well. He doesn't trust himself to lie convincingly, and so he's here, looking pointedly down at the display of flaky pastries and trying to observe as closely as he can from the corner of his eye the troll standing beside him.

It's the noises that make him give up on discretion and turn to stare openly. He's heard this one's voice over the network before - the sounds coming out of him don't seem like they could possibly be coming from him. He'd think it was distress save for the fact that the troll must have chewed his way through six sample spoons by now, and shows no signs of slowing down.

Are you all right seems a stupid way to begin, as he puts no faith in his ability to understand the answer. He decides on a polite smile and a wry, "It comes in jars, too, you know."

[xanthous]

He doesn't realize Neffa is talking to him for a brief moment. He's...well, he's confused. What he's eating tastes exactly like the few spoonfuls of mind honey he's eaten - mostly unwillingly - over his life, but. He's fine. His pan doesn't feel like it's about to explode, the stall hasn't been obliterated. He's not sparking at all.

He turns to the man, blinking twice as he pierces yet another sample spoon on a fang. He chirrups something, before flushing. He forgot Alternian wasn't spoken here and rushes to correct himself. "Jarth? I'm not really thure if it would be a good idea to buy any."

[lessthanelementary]

So much for seeking an understandable answer. Buying honey, in Neffa's view, is one of the more harmless things it's possible to do - simple hesitation he might have bought, but caution?

"There's something to be said for jars," he says, putting an easy smile over his utter lack of conversational footing. "They're easier to eat out of, for one thing-- no more massacre of innocent spoons." (He regrets his word choice as soon as he says it, but clings doggedly to friendliness, because it might win him some ground on which to stand.)

[xanthous]

The Psiioniic snorts, motioning at the stand with his spoons. "I thuppothe you eckpect me to lick it up?" He sticks out his - bifurcated - tongue, wiggling the tips separately.

He pops on of the spoons back in his mouth, chewing on the plastic for a moment. "Though I thuppothe it would make thenthe that thith planet'th weakneth eckthendth to it'th beeth..." He's talking more to himself then Neffa now, but hey. Not everyone can be worth his time.

[lessthanelementary]

...Gods. He's glad when the tongue disappears, as it robs him of his ability to do anything but stare in something between disgust and awe.

He's starting to regret having begun this conversation. He considers making his excuses and bolting, but he still hasn't bought what he came for. He wrenches his eyes away from the troll's face and clears his throat with pointed urgency at the stallkeeper.

"Are the bees so different where you come from?" he asks the Psiionic, and save for the too-casual half-step away from him he's taken, there's no reason to believe the question is meant any way but politely.

[xanthous]

The Psiioniic is going to count that half-step as a victory. He's so tired of humans, and the thing he despises the most is how they treat him and his kind like some sort of beast in a zoo. If he can offend some humans delicate sensibilities because of his appearance, than good. Maybe they'll stop seeing him as a fashion statement.

"I would imagine, to make thuch different honey." He taps his temple. "The honey on Alternia hath very nathty thide effectth."

[tis_allgood]

Cuthbert knows that look well, honey is a treat for him too, and he might have been in the same position if he hadn't already discovered a steady supply of sugar in the Capitol.

"I would not have guessed you had a sweet tooth. Sweet teeth, mayhap."

He is far too amused at the chirps too, it's kind of adorable and should therefore not be coming from someone so otherwise difficult.

[xanthous]

The Psiioniic frowns at Cuthbert, sample spoon dangling from his lips. He can't say the boy is who he really wants to see right now.

"I wouldn't have guethed you were thuch a petht."

He turns away from him, but only for a moment. "What ith thith thtuff, anywayth?" There's absolutely no way it could be honey, because he hasn't exploded anything yet.

[tis_allgood]

"Truly? I would have thought my talent for pestilence was well known by now."

Cuthbert takes a spoon of his own, just in case whatever Psiioniic is eating isn't what he thinks it is, but no, just honey. It's probably been more filtered than he would expect, since he's used to eating it straight out of the comb.

"'Tis a somewhat paler version of honey. But sweet nonetheless. Do you have bees where you're from? Or would it be rude to eat something made by another insect?"

He's actually curious about that and not being an asshole, although the temptation is always there.

[xanthous]

"Apparently not."

He eyes Cuthbert as he eats the honey, frowning. Though it doesn't surprise him when there's no reaction, he's still bothered.

"We do. Thmall, purple, thpeak in beenary. They make mind honey, and it'th not rude to eat mind honey. You're jutht...not thuppothed to, if you're a pthionic."

Because, then, well, you could accidentally kill someone, destroy a hive, or destroy several hives...

[tis_allgood]

He mulls the honey in his mouth for a minute and then says in complete deadpan.

"Did you know when you move your mouth a lot of strange sounds come out?"

He has no idea what Psii is talking about. And rather than ask he's just going to make fun. It should come as no surprise that another troll thinks he's been blackflirting.

[xanthous]

He's taken aback, blinking at Cuthbert.

"What'th that thuppothed to mean?"

If he's mocking his lisp again he's going to get a jar of honey smashed over his head.

[pythianjudgment]

There's no wonder at all that Terezi has found this place. She can smell the sweets from a mile away. (Not actually, but if presented with the question, she would solemnly swear that she could pinpoint the vortex of sugary confections to within a tenth of an inch.)

She's still in the midst of her exploration when she stumbles across the stand and it's delicious horde of sweets. However, that only holds her attention for a moment when she notices who is standing there. Her heart stops a little, familiarity wafting off the troll she's found. There's something a little off, but... It's been almost a year, and her memory could just be a little fuzzy. Right?

"Sollux?" She reaches out, touching his elbow, though she knows that calling his name should be more than enough. If it's actually him at all.

[xanthous]

He jerks at the touch, springing back. He's momentarily panicked - he doesn't want to be touched, he doesn't want to be found or seen and he's spent too long on the run to take being snuck up on well.

It takes him a half-minute to calm down, and when he does he can stare down the troll. It's one he's never met before, and she's so young he wonders why she's approaching him.

"What?" What's a sollux.

[pythianjudgment]

It's immediately apparent that this isn't the troll she was looking for, especially when he jumps like that. She jumps, too, pulling her hand back.

"Oh. You're... not him." The disappointment in her tone is almost tangible. She was really hoping that this was someone she knew, Sollux in particular. Out of all her friends (friends being the important word here), she's missed him the most in the past year.

As such, she's not quite as abrasive as she might normally be when making introductions.

"Who are you?"

[xanthous]

He frowns at her, hunching in on himself. He's immediately distrustful - something about her assuming she knows who she is sets him on edge.

"Apparently not," he grumbles. Chewing on his bottom lip, he eyes her more closely. She's older than Karkat, but not by much.

Who is this girl?

"You can call me the Helmthman."

[pythianjudgment]

She notices the lisp right off the bat. It's just one more similarity to add to the growing list. But no, this troll is clearly an adult. An adult troll with an adult title... though he doesn't much act like it. Even if he might be a yellowblood like Sollux--and she is starting to suspect that he is, she still wouldn't have expected this much nervousness wafting off of him.

"Helmsman. That's it? No name to go with that title?"

[xanthous]

The Psiioniic stares at her, wondering how she could have the audacity to ask for his name. Hell, he can't even remember it half the time.

"Not for a wiggler I barely know, no. Ethpecially not one that hathn't thared her own." Though even then, she won't get his name. He's not sharing it with someone he's not quadranted with. He has no reason to trust her with that.