thecapitol | (no subject)

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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.

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"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."

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.

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.

"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?"

"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.

"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.

Edited 2013-06-08 07:53 (UTC)

"They could blend in."

His smile grows as he struggles, and a burst of pity flares in his chest. It's easy to forget that the Initiate is still a child - not even at his final moult! - but then he does things like this and it's hard to see him as anything less than a little child.

He reaches out to him, snickering softly as he takes a necklace and begins to untangle it from his hair. It's...almost sickeningly pale.

He jerks and goes tense, utterly still for the longest moment. The Helmsman is going to try and cull him. He doesn't have any weapons, he doesn't have his chucklevoodoo. He still has claws and teeth. He's still fast. He can slam the Helmsman down and crush his neck. It would take a second. He can--

... not be culled.

Very, very slowly, he eases. He's... not quite sure how to process this, so he stays silent as he continues untangling his own piece, his horns bowed down to reach. He's hyper-aware of the Helmsman as he helps. Even more so, he's aware that there is a troll, helping, not attacking him. He refers to try and think if this has happened before, he refuses to try and remember if maybe his lusus--

He tugs one necklace free, tearing out a fair bit of long black hair. He doesn't bother to try and pull them out, he tosses the necklace back just like that. Let the shopkeeper deal with it.

He's surprised at the sudden tension. Though, really, he shouldn't be. This poor troll has probably not seen the kindness of many others, and it's...pitiful, truly pathetic.

He doesn't realize at first the noises he's making. The soft, gentle shooshing as he untangles more necklaces. He manages to get two out without tearing any hair, and it's when he places them on the shopekeeper's table that he realizes he was shooshing the other troll. His hands still in mid-air and he pauses. He can feel his cheeks burning, and he's so embarrassed that he wants to die.

But.

But he can't deny that this is a paleness that feels right.

It doesn't register at first, what it is the Helmsman is actually doing. His eyelids droop down and his breathing comes slower, a sound not-quite like the ocean, his ocean, fills his pan. And then when it does sink in, his eyes open wide and he stops breathing altogether. As the Helmsman pauses in untangling, the Initiate lifts his head and stares.

Fuck.

He swallows, nervous, lowering his hands. He should apologize. He has no right to touch the Initiate. He's far below his station, even if he's not a true adult yet. He shouldn't be doing this.

"I'm thorry."

Before he can entirely pull it away, he catches the Helmsman's hand. He hasn't a motherfucking clue what is happening right now.

"NO," he says quickly. "Wait it..." He trails off. He's still staring. He keeps holding the fuck on. Should he... let go?

"Stay," he says then, as he releases the Helmsman's hand, giving a 'stay put' gesture. Because that's a thing people do right? He hurriedly does his best to tear out another necklace on his own, gritting his teeth, and glancing back every second. He feels like a damn fool. But if the Helmsman just left he'd only feel more of one. They'll get what they motherfucking came for and be done. Then they can return to their blocks and- fuck if he knew.

Edited 2013-06-10 07:12 (UTC)

He can't leave now. He shakes his head, placing a hand over the Initiate's and pulling things away. Then he starts untangling again, fingers deft. It's time consuming to pick the hair out of the chains, but he's much better at it than the Initiate himself is.

"What would you do if I wathn't here?" He tuts, trying to ignore the fact that he desperately wants to shoosh the Initiate. "You'd go bald."

He lets his hand fall and lets the Helmsman's do the untangling instead. He doesn't know what he's doing. Letting the Helmsman touch his hair apparently but motherfucking beyond that... His face is cool with his blood, along with his ears. Thankfully, both are hidden beneath hair and paint.

"WOULD NOT," he retorts without feeling. His head is buzzing a bit too much with what's happened.

He shakes his head fondly, huffing out another shoosh. The Initiate's hair is rough, but...there's something about this that feels nice. Something that feels right. "You definitely would," he tuts. Soon he's untangled all the necklaces in his hair, and before he can stop himself he's smoothing out the Initiate's hair, making sure it doesn't look too horrible with the chunks missing.

Mirthful motherfucking Messiahs two. There are so many reasons why he shouldn't be okay with this. He isn'tentirely sure he is okay with this. The back of his mind is screaming that he should cull this troll, this heretical bit of walking Empress chattel, he should do himself right by Messiahs now. But it gets harder and harder to hear over the wash of waves, the gentle shooshing. And he can't kill here anyway, right? Not yet. This is fine.

And it feels nice.

"Brother, hair grows back," he says. He gives his hair a quick shake once the Helmsman is finished. "GOT LOTS ANYWAY."

He looks at the directly Helmsman once more. His hand grips air at his side, opening and closing, and for once not entirely in want of his clubs.

The Psiioniic looks up at him, a small, horribly open smile gracing his lips. He doesn't even consider how he looks, because he's just. Happy, but he's can't place that warm, fuzzy feeling as happiness quite yet. It's been so long since he's felt anything close to it.

"It doeth, but you don't want to look thilly, do you?" His hands hang awkwardly at his sides now, and he pulls his sleeves down over them. He's not sure what to do anymore. "I got them all out for you, though, tho you'll be fine."

He's not sure he's ever felt so confused in his life. Seeing that smile, The Helmsman makes him feel small but for once he's not furious about it. Does he want to look silly? Not this way, but he sure as shit feels he's already made himself so.

Disappointment hits him, for the briefest moment, seeing the Helmsman hide his hands.

He doesn't say thank you. But he does give the slightest of bows with his head, low enough to count but not enough to direct horn at, eyes kept closed. It's a mechanical motion learned in the church, whenever being imparted genuine wisdom by the priests, and it may be the best the Helmsman will get.

"Ought we both to move the fuck along then," he says.

He wants to reach out to the Initiate, wants to make him smile so badly. With something akin to horror he realizes that he wants to pap the Initiate.

Oh, fuck. He's so fucked.

He clears his throat, fidgeting with his sleeves. "Uh, yeah. We thhould...go and maybe. Get food or...thomething..."

The amount of awkward in the air is as tangible as if it were fear and he had his voodoo back. Its even more frustrating that he can't just turn it off either, even as he tries to ignore it. He wants to cull every single motherfucker what may have saw.

"AIN'T IT MOTHERFUCKING SOMETHING; food here what ain't even require a hunt," He muses. "YOU PICK. Have no motherfucking preference up with I." Well, he might have, but he'd rather say that than that he had no clue where to go.

He's going to die of awkward. He feels like a wiggler with his first pale crush, stumbling and flailing about like a tool.

He hates that he feels like this.

"Well, there'th a lot of platheth here." He takes a step back from the stand, glancing left and right. "Tho let'th go...thith way."

And then he's off, heading towards the Speakeasy.

He follows by the Helmsman's side, and ducks in after him- mindful of his horns- into the speakeasy. It's a whole lot of alien bullshit in there, but at the same time, it reminds him a bit of some of the hive cluster market places back on Alternia. He'd lived far from them, but every so often, a motherfucker had to make a trip for things he couldn't just hunt- like books- and then he'd get swept up just a bit that world. After becoming a Subjugglator, missions and inquisitions starting in Hive clusters brought him to the markets much more often, but this particular place distinctly makes him think of one he'd avoid. Like the one he'd first found Kan- The Signless in back when he was younger.

He very suddenly and sharply feels like he's making a mistake. He recites verse after verse in his head to drown it out. Then eye for eye with socket lye, lead by way of wound, for souls they did supply. Motherfucking decry that which would bleed out sin.

He doesn't seek out a place in the center; he goes to the darkest corner of the room, where they are least likely to be bothered, just as he always had, and there he settles, albeit uneasily.

He follows him quietly, looking around the Speakeasy curiously. He's never been here before, at all. He's never gone into actual eateries much, at all. Or, well, ever. On Alternia he would either be working in the kitchen, or...running through the wild, trying to avoid capture.

He threads his fingers together, resting his hands on the table. It's impossible for him to hide how he looks by this place. It's a whole new world to him.

He does notice the look the Helmsman wears. It's obvious this is all new to him and he's cursing himself for it because of course the motherfucker would know less of how this place works than him.

He taps his claws in the table, spins the salt shaker, tears up napkins all without saying a word. Until finally-

"WHY DID YOU HELP ME?"

His attention gets drawn back the the Initate, and his eyes go wide for a moment. He goes slightly yellow, chewing on his bottom lip.

He shrugs awkwardly, looking down at his hands. He can't look him in the face.

"I don't know. I jutht...thought I thhould."

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