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route_10652011-04-14 04:00 am
usedmiracles.livejournal.com) wrote in route_10652011-04-14 04:00 am
Entry tags:
- aradia megido | homestuck,
- crona | soul eater,
- dave strider | homestuck,
- doc scratch | homestuck,
- eridan ampora | homestuck,
- gamzee makara | homestuck,
- john egbert | homestuck,
- kanaya maryam | homestuck,
- karkat vantas | homestuck,
- maka albarn | soul eater,
- rose lalonde | homestuck,
- sollux captor | homestuck,
- soul eater evans | soul eater,
- vrisa serket | homestuck
...They Are Both Me...
Who: Gamzee Makara, Karkat Vantas, Rose Lalonde, Crona, Jade Harley, Doc Scratch, Eridan Ampora, Soul Eater Evans, Maka Albarn, Kanaya Maryam, Sollux Captor, Aradia Megido, John Egbert, Dave Strider, Death The Kid, Vriska Serket.
Where: Union cave
When: Afternoon of 4/13
Summary: Gamzee hasn't had any pies and is finally sobering up at the worst time. Happy Birthday John.
Rating: pg-13 for violence and swearing.
Log:
As if the random bug attack that was plaguing Johto wasn't enough of a problem for the rather large traveling group full of teenagers, it seems as though the group found yet another obstacle in their way. This one in the form of a towering mountain, the only way around it was through it, through the entrance which was a gaping ominous mouth of a cave that lead into rows of stalagmites and shadowy ledges, and for all they knew mazes. But if they were going to progress any further, it wasn't as if the group had much of a choice. Gamzee was hardly one to complain, so when Soul had proposed a race to the end to make things more interesting, he had been one of the ones to merely agree by not speaking at all; he hadn't exactly been feeling himself so even if there was the off chance that he wasn't too up in feeling the idea, he wouldn't have said anything anyways. His head ache that was persisting was more important anyways. So when the rest hurried off into the cave, he followed at his own pace, not to worried about actually taking part.
Normally, Gamzee would have felt sort of bad for making John fall behind everyone else, he could tell by the slight eagerness of his companion that he wanted to take part, but Gamzee merely wandered along at his own pace--trying to go any faster, or push himself in anyway just made his head feel all sorts of things his heart wasn't up in agreeing with. Once it was obvious that Gamzee wasn't going to speed up anytime soon, John had started texting someone on his pokegear, it didn't matter to Gamzee who it was, he didn't care all he needed to do was to keep on moving, to keep that headache at bay, but as time went on it seemed to only increase. It felt like it was going to consume him, like something that shouldn't be exposed was ripping at the surface and there was little to nothing he could do about it--in fact, he wasn't Eridan so he might be wrong, but he definitely felt like suppressing whatever this was, was completely hopeless.
Who knew how long had past since they entered the cave, the walls and paths looked all the same and no one else was in sight. Chances were they were just as separated from each other as John and Gamzee were from them. John continued to just text away at his pokegear, while the juggalo who had been silent the whole time fell further and further behind, the silence bringing an almost chilling air to the area and had John not been nose deep in his pokegear he might have noticed something was off. Noticed that the once placid and lazy foot steps of the juggalo soon picked up their pace, was getting closer and almost clapped against the ground in a way that was almost threatening, almost dangerous. Menacing really.
Whatever Gamzee was feeling at this point was not anything familiar to the juggalo. He had felt it maybe once before, but had soon forgotten it. It was a moment that surprised and amazed the other trolls, but that was then and this was now and it wasn't for a greater cause like it once was, no what Gamzee was feeling was a dark and twisted feeling of rage that gripped at his soul like a demanding vice, only offering to let go once the boy in front of him had met his fate, the fate that was predetermined by some cosmic force that Gamzee wasn't sure of. And yet, he was sure of, totally sure of, never so sure in his life. As the fogginess that was the ground of Gamzee's mind started to clear, so did the obscurities of what he needed to do, what he was there for, what and who exactly those wonderful, mirthful messiahs were. It was all making sense now, it was all coming together and Gamzee felt as if some hidden path that had absolutely no trace of existing before just sprang forth as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Like a neon light bulb flicking on in a dark room with it's obviousness.
It appeared as though his quickening pace had alerted John, pulled him from his gear, or maybe it was the sound the rock made when it was lifted from the ground so suddenly, scooped into the hand of the approaching juggalo. It wasn't as if John was given time to react, to say anything, to do anything. Nothing was done and nothing could have been done before that rock made it's crashing descent to the backside of the poor boy's head. The hit was strong enough to send the boy sprawling. Enough to knock those glasses from his face, the gear from his hands and the consciousness straight out of him. Gamzee stares on at his work, one swift blow was all it took, he knew the boy wasn't dead, but that wasn't what he wanted--no that wasn't what they wanted. There was a better target in mind, of course he wasn't the only one the juggalo would go after, no there were too many brothers and sisters to invite to the carnival and Gamzee was anything if not considerate of his fellow friends.
It was then that the gear caught Gamzee's eye, that corresponding text to John's blue was a familiar shade. It belonged to the kid's friend, Dave. Looking over the conversation which was a simple repeat of words between the two, he grew curious and then mischievous. He wasn't exactly sure what 'marco' 'polo' meant exactly, but he knew what he was going to do, they agreed.
marco
polo
marco
honk.
Where: Union cave
When: Afternoon of 4/13
Summary: Gamzee hasn't had any pies and is finally sobering up at the worst time. Happy Birthday John.
Rating: pg-13 for violence and swearing.
Log:
As if the random bug attack that was plaguing Johto wasn't enough of a problem for the rather large traveling group full of teenagers, it seems as though the group found yet another obstacle in their way. This one in the form of a towering mountain, the only way around it was through it, through the entrance which was a gaping ominous mouth of a cave that lead into rows of stalagmites and shadowy ledges, and for all they knew mazes. But if they were going to progress any further, it wasn't as if the group had much of a choice. Gamzee was hardly one to complain, so when Soul had proposed a race to the end to make things more interesting, he had been one of the ones to merely agree by not speaking at all; he hadn't exactly been feeling himself so even if there was the off chance that he wasn't too up in feeling the idea, he wouldn't have said anything anyways. His head ache that was persisting was more important anyways. So when the rest hurried off into the cave, he followed at his own pace, not to worried about actually taking part.
Normally, Gamzee would have felt sort of bad for making John fall behind everyone else, he could tell by the slight eagerness of his companion that he wanted to take part, but Gamzee merely wandered along at his own pace--trying to go any faster, or push himself in anyway just made his head feel all sorts of things his heart wasn't up in agreeing with. Once it was obvious that Gamzee wasn't going to speed up anytime soon, John had started texting someone on his pokegear, it didn't matter to Gamzee who it was, he didn't care all he needed to do was to keep on moving, to keep that headache at bay, but as time went on it seemed to only increase. It felt like it was going to consume him, like something that shouldn't be exposed was ripping at the surface and there was little to nothing he could do about it--in fact, he wasn't Eridan so he might be wrong, but he definitely felt like suppressing whatever this was, was completely hopeless.
Who knew how long had past since they entered the cave, the walls and paths looked all the same and no one else was in sight. Chances were they were just as separated from each other as John and Gamzee were from them. John continued to just text away at his pokegear, while the juggalo who had been silent the whole time fell further and further behind, the silence bringing an almost chilling air to the area and had John not been nose deep in his pokegear he might have noticed something was off. Noticed that the once placid and lazy foot steps of the juggalo soon picked up their pace, was getting closer and almost clapped against the ground in a way that was almost threatening, almost dangerous. Menacing really.
Whatever Gamzee was feeling at this point was not anything familiar to the juggalo. He had felt it maybe once before, but had soon forgotten it. It was a moment that surprised and amazed the other trolls, but that was then and this was now and it wasn't for a greater cause like it once was, no what Gamzee was feeling was a dark and twisted feeling of rage that gripped at his soul like a demanding vice, only offering to let go once the boy in front of him had met his fate, the fate that was predetermined by some cosmic force that Gamzee wasn't sure of. And yet, he was sure of, totally sure of, never so sure in his life. As the fogginess that was the ground of Gamzee's mind started to clear, so did the obscurities of what he needed to do, what he was there for, what and who exactly those wonderful, mirthful messiahs were. It was all making sense now, it was all coming together and Gamzee felt as if some hidden path that had absolutely no trace of existing before just sprang forth as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Like a neon light bulb flicking on in a dark room with it's obviousness.
It appeared as though his quickening pace had alerted John, pulled him from his gear, or maybe it was the sound the rock made when it was lifted from the ground so suddenly, scooped into the hand of the approaching juggalo. It wasn't as if John was given time to react, to say anything, to do anything. Nothing was done and nothing could have been done before that rock made it's crashing descent to the backside of the poor boy's head. The hit was strong enough to send the boy sprawling. Enough to knock those glasses from his face, the gear from his hands and the consciousness straight out of him. Gamzee stares on at his work, one swift blow was all it took, he knew the boy wasn't dead, but that wasn't what he wanted--no that wasn't what they wanted. There was a better target in mind, of course he wasn't the only one the juggalo would go after, no there were too many brothers and sisters to invite to the carnival and Gamzee was anything if not considerate of his fellow friends.
It was then that the gear caught Gamzee's eye, that corresponding text to John's blue was a familiar shade. It belonged to the kid's friend, Dave. Looking over the conversation which was a simple repeat of words between the two, he grew curious and then mischievous. He wasn't exactly sure what 'marco' 'polo' meant exactly, but he knew what he was going to do, they agreed.
marco
polo
marco
honk.
Karkat
don't even know how all these other threads are going to go, but I at least want to start this
Between the race through the cave and his stellar navigational skills, Karkat had managed to both separate himself from his travel group and get himself thoroughly lost. Now the former troll simply had no idea where he was. Not that he was going to call anyone and ask for directions, let alone do anything as low as call out for help. He was the leader. He was perfectly capable on his own. If anyone could handle this shit, it was him. Shit would be so handled it would be worry-free for years.
And that's how, muttering, irritable, and too stubborn to do anything dictated by common sense, Karkat ended up wandering aimlessly through Union Cave.
no subject
Someone a little bit closer to the juggalo. His main target, his main man. Dear, sweet, motherfuckin' Karkat. He placidly looks down at the unconscious body as he grabs his pokegear. Fumbling with it(Most certainly calling Karkat) before turning the camera on and having it pan down to Eridan's limp form.
It only showed for a few seconds before the feed get cut. Before the text soon comes.
no subject
That was why when a message came through to him, his first thought was that he'd have to tell someone off for worrying about where he was. He'd tell them alright, fuck that noise, because he could handle him--
Eridan.
--self...
Bruised and bloody.
As his mouth fell open, the feed cut, and with it cut off any verbal response he may have made.
Then came the text.
As the messages came through, the answer of who was behind this was answered. He'd seen this quirk before when Gamzee slipped, he knew the font color, and above all, he knew the warning Kanaya had made about him. That's what stopped him from questioning this and opened up his mind to immediate worry. Sure, Eridan was hardly up there on the list of those he didn't want to see harmed, but this - this wasn't what he wanted. It was bad enough having to deal with the former sea dweller after his trip to the Veil, but now Gamzee had lost it somehow, too.
He swallowed, tried to think, then fumbled with his Pokégear, trying to come up with some message to send back.
After another sharp swallow that made his throat ache, he hit the "send" button with shaking finger, and started walking. For all he hated being lost before, he had more than double the reason now. He had to find Gamzee--had to do something--even though he could now feel a lump of cold, icy fear lodged in the pit of his stomach.
no subject
After a long enough pause, another message gets sent out.
no subject
It didn't stop him from letting out a startled yelp when the next message came through. The sound echoes from the cavernous cave walls - so much for trying to sneak up on anyone here.
There was indeed a sick feeling in his stomach along with the fear, but not all of it was directed at Gamzee. A notable chunk was turned inward, spawned by what he mentioned just then - how he hadn't trusted Kanaya's warning enough.
no subject
Oh? Was that Karkat? His best friend? The sound was vague, but it resonated enough for the juggalo to hear it--or maybe he just wasn't as far away as he thought. Karkat or not, this was a fortunate turn of events.
Not too terribly far from Karkat there was a small obscure sound. Might have just been the cave, might have been a small honk. Might also be accompanied by the tapping of shoes against the cave floor.
no subject
If only she were here now.
Before he could start to formulate a response, however, his eyes found the last part of the text. Gamzee had heard him, and he was on the way.
He closed the 'gear then, shoving it away into a pocket. For as much as he'd wanted to find the clown a moment before, now the fear won over, telling him to get out of there. But he couldn't run. Running would be noisy, and he couldn't afford to give any more hints to his location after--
Was that a honk? Were those footsteps? His insides seized up as though caught in a vice grip. Somehow he managed to swallow back the scared sound he wanted to make. Carefully, slowly, he edged back away from it, footsteps ginger as he could make them. There were rocks here, surely he could hide behind one. Just keep his breathing quiet, don't put one foot down too hard, careful now, just get there quick...
He prayed Gamzee wasn't as close as he sounded.
no subject
A smile splitting his face like a mocking wound, only making his appearance more haunting, more hostile especially with the blood. It stained his shirt, Eridan's cape, even drops decorated the pair of shades that adorned the juggalo's face. He had no weapons, he didn't need any. He had handled the others, faired the encounters previous without them--and his choice brother Karkat? Yeah, he'd be just as easy to take down. But he was going to have fun with this one. He knew he was--despite the collection being his trophies, there was a specific reason he had a certain pair of shades.
He knew what it meant to Karkat. He knew, and he wanted him to see, wanted him to know who he had taken care of. Who he had invited to his carnival. Maybe then, maybe, Karkat would be more willing to go--to join. To see his view on things. Maybe even get some under-motherfuckin-standing going on in Karkat's think pan much akin to how it was going in his own dilapidated one.
"Come on out brother. I KNOW YOU'RE MOTHERFUCKIN' THERE."
1/2
Each step closer just made it worse. Each footfall ticked down to an unavoidable encounter, and he knew it. He had figured already that running wasn't a viable option, not without trying to disable Gamzee. But how would he fare against him? Could he fight him? Couldn't he just stay here and hope he would move on? But then what about the others - could he just let him find them and hurt them?
No--No, he couldn't. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if they suffered injury through his inaction.
Before he could decide what to even try, however, Gamzee's voice suddenly sounded out. His head whipped towards the source on instinct; beyond the rock he knelt hidden behind, he could see him. Not well, with this dark, but enough. The shoes, the usual polka dotted pants, the... the cape. Eridan's cape. Blood dotting his shirt, the top of his cape, his hair, his face, his--
Not his.
Dave's sunglasses.
Karkat's eyes widened, and just as his mouth dropped open, he felt as if something were opening up inside him. As though the claw of fear gripped so tight around him were relinquishing its hold - or the simple rage he felt filling himself had pushed it off. Dave might not hate him now, even platonically, but the former troll couldn't just give no reaction to seeing his former kismesis and matesprit's signature shades on Gamzee's face, flecked with blood.
2/2
"YOU GRUBFUCKER!"
And with Karkat came his fist, aimed not for his face, but his stomach.
no subject
"What's the fuckin' matter my brother? ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKIN' BOTHERED BY SOMETHIN'? I can't imagine what could ever be all up done be the problem. IS THERE SOMETHIN' ON MY MOTHERFUCKIN' FACE BROTHER?"
He takes a step closer, his movements slow, but it had an obvious deliberateness to it. As if holding back, as if trying to psyche the other out, mess with him, something. He wasn't about to strike him, not yet. No, the brother couldn't be spoiled yet. That would take all the fun out of it.
no subject
Of course, Gamzee was the strongest troll. They had all seen it in the battle against the Black King, though none had quite believed it. But Gamzee was human now, and Karkat had somehow expected that strength to die with it. But then, he was human now, too.
Before he could think it over more, though - something dangerous to do in the middle of a fight - the Capricorn spoke.
"Fuck you, you sick shit," Karkat hissed. That taunt was all he needed to put his mind back on the situation instead of its mechanics. "You know damn fucking well what's wrong. You're doing it on purpose."
The thought brought another wave of sick rage to his gut, and as Gamzee stepped forward, Karkat found himself striking out again. A pair of punches, one-two, flew out for his shoulders.
"You fucking think I'll just let you get away with it?!"
no subject
But just as fast as Gamzee had been struck, his hand finds its place grasping Karkat's wrist, his hold tightening to a painful degree. He pulls Karkat so they are even closer in proximity, their faces not too far away from each other, but not exactly close. The free hand rising, slim fingers grasping the frames of those shades, lowering them so Karkat could see his eyes. His wicked eyes that seemed to hold much more than just twisted intent, there was a deep blood lust behind them, a harsh whimsy.
"I don't quite seem to have my understand on, my brother. WHAT EXACTLY ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKIN' GONNA DO ABOUT IT? Are you gonna get my wicked motherfuckin' understandin' on? ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME GET MY MOTHERFUCKIN' SCHOOLFED ON, MY GUTTERBLOODED MOTHERFUCKER?"
It was then that Gamzee finally struck, using Karkat's arm to hold him in place, as he released the glasses and swung with his free arm for the Cancer's face. If the hit were to make it's mark, he'd no sooner release that arm, keeping his hold on it to draw back his fist again in an attempt to strike it down upon his choice brother.
"I already motherfuckin' got away with it."
no subject
Karkat winced himself at the tight grip, and glared through narrowed eyes as he was pulled in close. Even as he lowered the shades, that look remained. It wasn't that the blood lust wasn't unnerving. It most certainly was, especially from one he once viewed (however begrudgingly) as a best friend. But at the same time, seeing that look, knowing how serious Gamzee was, drove up his own determination. He couldn't let him turn that intent on anyone else.
The words did their job just fine: they drove up his rage while lowering his ability to think clearly. The fist neatly cut off a would-have-been shouted retort, replacing it with a grunt of pain. A second quickly followed with the second punch.
What could he do now? Karkat knew he couldn't just pull his arm from the clown's grip - not by force. Trying to punch him with his free hand might just invite a secondary grasp, and he already knew his blows were the less effective of the two.
But wait. Hadn't Kanaya said something before? Hadn't she told him what she did in the Veil? She had... that's right.
Karkat hazarded a laugh as it rose to mind.
Then his leg rose in a swift kick for the globes.
"Your rotted think pan doesn't understand shit!"
no subject
Gamzee was about to lay another hard punch to his friend when something caught him off guard. Something being that swift kick to an undesired place--To which even those in the most psychotic of states would still be rendered doubled over and writhing, much like the clown was after a particularly loud and exasperated HONK. His mind was warring with itself, screaming for him to get up, for him to make the peasant blood pay for what he had done, but the other half was in too much pain to do much of anything.
Though, despite his crumpled form, he kept a malicious glare fixated on Karkat, his teeth gritted with a snarl. Though his features were softening a bit, as he felt something rising again, trying to bring itself to the surface, something that was arguing with the others, something protective. Protective over such a filthy lowly thing such as Karkat. It was laughable, a fucking joke and the more he--they thought of it, the more it became humorous. The more the pained juggalo found himself laughing. First low, always low. But soon it rose to a guttural throaty laugh that echoed through the cave.
"Such a motherfuckin' joke..."
It cuts off quick enough, as his expression falls back to a look that was both malicious as relaxed. His eyes never leaving Karkat as his grin just stays wide. By this point, if Karkat doesn't react fast enough, he's going to rise, despite the resounding pain between his knees. He had a job to do, and no amount of pain was going to stop him.
no subject
Then Gamzee laughed. Just hearing that sound, even soft, reignited the ire within him. As it rose, so did his anger, until he was growling in response.
"A joke? You think this is a FUCKING JOKE?"
And like that, Karkat snapped forward, hands seizing for Gamzee's neck just as the clown resumed his malicious grin. His weight shoved after it. The goal was simple: knock him to the ground, pin him, strangle him. The only trick was if he had enough coordination through the rage to do it, and Gamzee too little through the pain to counteract it.
Still, he yelled.
"This isn't fucking funny, you maggot-brained piece of shit! I'm not going to let you hurt them, not going to let you hurt anyone else. You think I'm a fucking gutterblood? You think anyone beneath you on the hemospectrum isn't worthwhile? Kanaya told me that trick, and it put you down on your fucking knees!"
no subject
But he didn't.
He couldn't quite place this reluctance, this obscure hidden drive to allow this, to not raise his hands and fend off the other, which normally would be all too easy. To just stare up at those eyes that had almost matching bloodlust. Matching rage and hatred. His grin spreading as he stares, a mixture of warped amusement and misplaced fondness. He opened his mouth, a choked gasp escaping for a moment before a strained whisper is released.
"You--hhhhhh--gonna do it b--Brother? ARE YOU--GONNA MOTHE--MOTHERFUCKIN' DO IT? Deliver th-the motherfuckin' pun--Hhhh--punchline I know you got it the fu--fuck all up in you."
After making his struggled statement, he just continued to watch Karkat, his half lidded eyes staying on him as his face continues to harbor that split in his face one would call a smile. It didn't matter that his lungs were burning, that his head was feeling light and that his eyes were finding it hard to focus. This frail human body was worthless. It was growing tired, weak and still. Its aching muscles screaming more now, but he didn't care. That irrational calm held his arms down, held him in place as Karkat choked him.
no subject
In fact, he was goading him on.
Karkat stared down at the clown beneath him: he stared at the hands around his neck, and the smile on his face. He was really doing it, wasn't he? Trying to strangle someone to death, and not for the first time. But Eridan - Eridan had at least put up a fight. Eridan had managed to shove him off! And then go hide, and...
...and...
"I can't."
The former troll pulled his hands free, arms shaking, and scrambled back away from his would-be victim. He tried to hide the noise that tumbled from his throat, entirely too akin to a soft sob. And maybe it was one. For as much as he had wanted to at the start, when truly faced with his actions, he didn't want to be a killer. Even if Gamzee and Eridan had done it first, at least in the Veil, would that make him any better?