Your name is Karkat Vantas and you are waiting.
In fact, you are waiting by sitting on a hornpile in one of the most isolated blocks available on this meteor. Obviously you're not doing that because you have too much time on your hands or nothing better to do, thank you very fucking much. You're here because this is the place you meet up with your moirail.
Oh, he better be here soon. If he keeps you waiting as long as last time again, you'll take and throw him head-first into a pool of fuckery where he can drown forever for all you care. It'll be like a tsunami. A big tsunami consisting of your never ending rage. Actually, you even know something better. You're just going to go. There, simple as that. Just walk back to civilisation and maybe leave him a little note.
HEY, IF YOU'RE READING THIS IT MEANS YOU FINALLY USED UP ALL MY PATIENCE REGARDING DYING A LONELY DEATH OUT OF BOREDOM IN A SHITTY BLOCK AND NOW YOU GET TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS. GUESS WHAT, GENIUS. I LEFT! DUH.
You could even draw a little face on the back, for good measure. One with fat, messy lines repeatingly running above each other and with scribbles all around it to make it look angrier. That would show him alright for letting you wait like that. But no, here you are knowing exactly you'd never ditch his sorry ass over something as unimportant as a few annoying delays. Even if you sat there until someone had to scrape your deceased remains off these horns, the paper solution is probably the last thing you'd ever consider.
There are a few cracks in the ceiling and you've already counted them a bunch of times, before realising how fucking dumb that is and abruptly stopping. Then — out of options to do anything else — you look over at the entrance as if you're waiting for him to step through it. Naturally, it isn't going to open because it would be too much to ask of Gamzee to use a door like a normal person. He's going to come through the ventilation shaft.
...Which you have your back turned to right now. Maybe you should —
You cover your mouth with your hands, both because of the high-pitched scream you just made and also to prevent any other embarrissing sounds from coming out. The very troll you've been awaiting all this time is sitting there in a crouch a few feet away from you. His untamed hair is even more roughed up than usual and there's a bit dust on his shoulders and ridiculous mustered pants from crawling in the dirty vents too much. Also, he could probably use a bath but that is beside the point. His curved horns come up to where your chin is, with you being on the pile and him on the ground.
You let him know the drill, "Oh my god, Gamzee! I swear to fuck one day I'll put a little bell on you!"
He smiles at you hesitantly and probably with an apologetic flair, "Aw, don't up and get your shout on, bro. You know I ain't got the means to be all scaring you like that. It's just that you're so motherfuckin' easy to get the jumpies."
This excuse doesn't do it for you, "Wrong! It's just that you happen to be a sneaky and murderous asshole, that's just waiting to throw everything over the fucking board of sanity-ship and make a full body dive directly back into the mental shit-state you were in, before I put an end to your oh so happy tale of subjugating us all. So don't come in here saying it's my fault I got startled when you're being as fucking creepy as usual!"
Emphasizing your pathetic attempt to justify the scream by crossing your arms and glaring the other direction, you add an offended little, "And you also happen to be my shit-eating moirail and I barley see your stupid face, so are we having a feelings jam or what?"
Gamzee makes a little agreeable noise that sounds just the slightiest bit like he's amused by your wrigglerish behavior, before standing up, strolling over and literally letting himself fall down on the pile, causing a bunch of honks to echo through the block.
The two of you just sit there for a while in silence — well you sit there, Gamzee is lying down, somehow comfortable in this garbage — and bless each other with the mind blowing power of not saying anything.
After a minute or so you glance down at him. His eyes are closed and if you didn't know better you'd say he was sleeping peacefully beside you. You turn your gaze back to your feet and a small sigh escapes your mouth. It's been half a sweep now since Sollux and Aradia gave this rock the legendary shove of only Mother Grub herself knows what and sent you on your journey through existential nothingness. Your and your friends' lives really... settled down after that. You guess? There is no particular problem you'd think of as fairly alarming or highly concerning, besides your usual everyday struggle to cope with lots and lots of shit that some people like to throw at you from various directions. Also you're still the biggest failure in paradox space as far as you can tell because face it, you never should've argued to lead your red team in the beginning, let alone the other half of them in the blue one. And of course there's this scary lack of knowledge about what waits for you in the new session, too.
Yeah ok, maybe you misjudged the number of your personal problems there a little bit. But despite all that, you can make life work. Not only for yourself but for all of you. You will make it work. Right?
Your train of thought is interrupted by a hand on your shoulder, its coolness reaching your skin even through the thick fabric of your sweater. It's a familiar feeling by now. You've grown to like it. Looking up, you meet Gamzee's worried eyes who is sitting crosslegged now rather than pretending to visit some dreamblubbles.
"You wanna tell your pale-bro what got you all kinds of down there?" he offers.
You stop the eye contact, which honestly makes him look a little sad, and hear another sigh from you, but this time louder and more frustrated. Gamzee doesn't seem to like it when you do that because he wraps his arms around your body from behind and before you know it, you are in a big, strong embrace with your back turned to his chest. You kind of lean against him to get more comfortable, knowing he has no intetions of letting you go in the near future. You wouldn't want him to anyway.
"So have a mind telling me now what unfunny noise is all pressing down on your pusher, best friend?" his voice is a low mumble in your ear. He does this sometimes — calling you 'best friend'. Whether it's just for old times' sake because it used to be his favourite nickname for you, or to actually mock his long gone high self, you have no idea. Either way, it sure rattles up a ton of different feelings inside whenever you hear it.
Realising that you actually need to answer him sometime, your speak-box comes to life again, "Well that depends on what you mean exactly. The undeniable deadly ride leading most likely to our doom, the fact that a majority of people I once called friends is dead, or the increasingly growing ball of shit that comes when you live between two girls who are always at each others lips like there's no tomorrow and someone who wants to lick your face all the time. Feel free to pick one of these issues."
"Maybe you should just motherfuckin' kick back, ya dig?" he considers, "If you feel those folks bringing the annoying vibes at you, don't be talking at them no more."
You look at him, "Wow, thank you for reminding me that I can always count on you and your top notch advises. Really, this one's got to be one of my favorites so far."
"Just saying," comes over a lazy grin.
You groan and nestle yourself a little bit deeper into his arms, which he answers with an even tighter squeeze and something that could be a smile against your hair.
"Sometimes I wonder how often Crab-dad must have dropped me on the floor of fuck ups as a wiggler to gain so much of it in me and get us here in the first place. I mean we won the game! We were there! Just one arm-reach away from victory, standing at the door to what could have been so much. New planet, new universe, new beginning, new life. And one moment later this all is just gone, while the leader stands helplessly in the middle and watches as everyone goes berserk around him. Leader. Yeah, fucking right. I led all of us into our end is what I did," the words are just pouring out of you at this stage.
Gamzee answers immediately, "But now you be giving yourself too much credit there, brother. Everyone up and threw their wicked mistakes in our party, making it so broken not even you got the ways to get your fix on it. Besides, there's still all being one thing you ain't guilty of yet."
You huff through your nose bemused, "Oh yeah? And what would that be?"
"You didn't kill no motherfucker."
That much... is true. Even in all of the shit that went down between some teeny Highbloods who thought they had to bring a little violent culture from home with them on the meteor and your own existential life-crises, you somehow haven't managed to lessen the few trolls that are still alive.
On the other side though.. You may not have played an active role in murdering your friends, but simply you being a complete fucking tool at leading helped reaching exactly this goal. There is just no talking around it.
You let your eyes flicker over the ground, unsure on what to focus, "Still, I just don't get how it could go so wrong. How could I let—"
"Shhhhhhh..." Gamzee soothes with all the serene calm he summons up for you these days and you shut up. This little trick always works and you know that he knows that as well. So after your endless ramblings about who has fault are taking care of, he goes right back to using you as his personal snuggleplane.
"I swear if I come out of here looking like a stripe-beast because you managed to rub your disgusting paint off on me, I'm gonna be really mad. What am I even saying, it probably already happened anyway."
"M'sorry," he slurs. You don't think you would actually care that much about it, but still. You like making a point.
Seconds pass without any signs of him withdrawing from you whatsoever and you find yourself surprisingly grateful for it. There's just nothing like a nice round of perfectly platonic cuddles after a long day to set your nerves at ease, and you actually really try to relax a bit. Only too bad that your thoughts have other plans for you, these fuckers.
"...Did you know Terezi and Dave are a thing now?"
Now he just looks confused. Obviously he didn't expect you to change the subject so fast, or he just didn't expect to talk about his other teammates' relationships at all.
"They're in a quadrant. The flushed one," you say, mixed with a bitter undertone.
Gamzee seems to understand the problem now you have been trying to describe for him and begins to draw invisible little diamonds on your back with his fingers.
"And you're all motherfucking ok with that?"
"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be? It's not like I could do anything about it anyway. I fucked up with her and she never—"
You stop when the fact that she probably didn't even feel the tiniest of flushed sparkles for you in her life slaps you in the face like a bitch. Taking a deep breath, you try again, "She doesn't feel for me that way."
"Well, from the knowledge I got going about the sister, I'd say you're really high up in the good side of her law book."
This makes you pause, "Wait, how do you know how Terezi feels about me. It's not like you talk to anybody other than myself."
He winces all of a sudden. Not visibly but enough that you can feel it.
"Uh, I guess I just all motherfucking suggested that noise. I mean you two were always getting your fun on at each other, even before the game, so it really ain't that hard to know where her opinion about your miraculous self is all lying at."
"Uh-huh..." you say with a suspicious expression on your face, "Liar!"
"I ain't lying, bro—"
"Of course you are! Don't bullshit me!"
"Look, no bullshit's being done here when we're getting our piling on."
"Oh, is that so?" you cross your arms at him.
There isn't even a falter, "Yeah."
"Ok," you say and look down for a moment, thinking it over, "Are you sure?"
This is getting stupid, "Gamzee."
"The motherfucking rule's no secrets, right? Ain't got none."
So very, very stupid, "Fuck you! I can see right through your god-awful charades of make-believe, trust me. You're definitely hiding something."
Gamzee's turning his head away from you now, looking troubled and fuck you hate the way he does that, so you decide to let the matter drop before you start vomiting with pale affection all over the place. If he doesn't want to talk about it, it's his loss.
"Fine shitsponge, you're not lying. Satisfied?"
He confirms, nodding a little but still won't look at you. This being the final straw, you pull him down by his shoulders on your level and bump your foreheads together, staying like that.
"I'm pale for you, you dead-panned fucking mess."
He leans in to the touch, and it could just be because your brain is physically melting into a complete shut off right now, but you're sure as fuck you can hear him purring softly.
"Pale for you too, brother."
When you release him you feel warm and save and fuzzy and just really, really good, on an odd level you can't quite explain. Right, it's such a wonderful thing, this troll disease called friendship and Moirallegiance is magic blah blah blah. You know how all the sayings go, having sweeps over sweeps studied them with your romcoms.
But you have to admit, you never even dreamed about finding the one true palemate in your life. It was just always totally out of your options because you had more important shit to care about back on Alternia, like staying alive or avoiding the drones or not letting anyone find out you have freaky mutant-blood flowing through your veins and be culled. It pretty much always led to the same thing. Death.
And if someone had told you that he was going to be the one taking over your Quadrant, you would have gladly corrected them by shouting a bunch of profanities directly into their face and taking great joy on their fallen tears of sorrow after you'd been done. But yet here you are, together with him and kind of happy. You could really get used to that.
A small smile creeps its way onto your face — something you haven't experienced in days and also something that probably won't go away for a while, which is fine with you.
Maybe you're expecting a little too much.
But you think that this here.
"Did we make our happy end unreachable now?"
Could finally be the path to victory.
"Nah, I think everything's being as good as it gets."
Your smile doesn't vanish.
You make an attempt to wiggle yourself out of the full-body-pillow Gamzee served you as, and slide slowly and lazily down the pile until your feet touch the ground and your upper body is still lying on the horns. That, of course, couldn't be done completly soundless and you're trying your best to ignore the obnoxious honkings under your weight.
Your companion moved the instant you left his protective arms and is now kneeling on the pile with his hands next to either side of your head, looking down at you, so you both see each other upside down.
You pap him right between his horns and make a suggestion, "Why don't we take a little walk? I want to stretch my legs a bit and this block here sucks so much bulge not even Aradia's weird dancestor with the East Beforan accent would find it funny anymore."
Your name is Dave Strider and you are searching.
In fact, you are searching for your bud Karkat because you've already wrung out some sick rhymes like they were apples turning into juice and had a really nice time with Terezi. You would've stayed with her, but making out usually means licking you everywhere she can get her tongue at the moment after she's done with your mouth and sometimes enough is enough.
"Stop struggling! I can't taste you correctly when you thrash around like that!" she would always complain.
"Would you even try to do that at all if I weren't wearing so much red?" you asked her once.
"Not half as much," she'd snickered and then laughed at you.
No need to say anymore how great she is. You two have a lot of fun most of the time. However, after you put the stop sign for any saliva involved intentions on your body, she left you to do something 'more fun'.
So here you are now, wandering the famous streets of meteor-city and looking for nubby-horns to do something together. Your steps have a specific rhythm to them and you bob your head to a made-up beat only you can hear, already working on the next big rap in your mind. You round a corner and another one and another one. Huh, it kinda goes well with the internal fires you're throwing around. It pretty much rules. You should try walking more often while practicing, instead of standing in random places and getting weird looks from the others when they catch you mumbling.
Seeing your temporary home as the labyrinth it is and not stopping to go forward, you're almost certain you'll never find the way back again. You're gonna have to be living out here, in the wilderness with nothing but the content of your sylladex and your sharp senses to survive. You'll do it just like the heroes in those sick action movies, who struggle to live on an abandoned island after a plane crash or some shit like that.
But before you can really get into your exaggerated fantasies, a voice distracts you. Your mood lights up immediately because you know exactly whom that one belongs to. After picking up your speed and smoothly sliding around a few more corners, you come to a sudden halt and —
You're not really feeling the joy you hoped you would feel when you see Karkat because directly behind him stands fucking murderclown and when he sees you he starts growling and, wow, you didn't even know trolls could do that but one never learns out you guess.
First Karkat looks surprised when he notices you, then confused and finally he settles on panicked as he shoves himself between you and the other pissed looking troll, holding his arm out behind him with an open palm to get the looming threat back under control, while the rest of him is facing you. The scene reminds you of a man standing between a predator and its prey, preventing it from having dinner. Of course you got the role of the prey. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.
"WHAT THE MOTHER FUCK DO YOU WANT HERE, MOTHERFUCKER?!"
You jump just a tiny bit because that one caught you off guard. But you don't think anyone noticed thanks to your well-trained, expressionless face. Man, this guy's got some volume in him. It must have been audible all the way back to the common room. Karkat desperately shooshes his air out but fuck if the lunatic listens to him and that — ladies and gentlemen — is the moment you decide it's one of your loudmouthy days today.
"Sorry, I didn't know this place was the VIP-Zone for Joker cosplayers and you had to be in a special cult to get cards and a free drink."
Faster than you can even blink, a flash of black and grey storms over to you and the next thing you see is a big club just inches away from your face. In the same time all you were able to do is getting the tips of your fingers on your sword. If he had wanted to kill you just now, you'd be long gone.
Standing there motionless, you let him take in what appeares to be every detail of your face, in a manner like he never learned the concept of 'private space'. There are a few knife-like fangs near the vulnerable parts of you too many for your liking, and the way his red-orange eyes are glowing in the dark really makes you question your decision to leave love-nest and go for a trip to Horror-Carnival.
Shit, sloppy makeouts would've been so much better than this crap here.
The mixture of his smudged paint with the scares underneath and how he is towering over you, make his whole appereance even more terrefying and you swallow. Just why the fuck is he so tall?!
Luckily for you, Karkat puts a stop to the little staring-contest you two had going by grabbing a fistful of Gamzee's hair and yanking him back. He then pats him — a little harder than necessary — directly on the nose and speaks with his weird clown-whisperer voice.
"SHOOSH, we're not having anymore goddamn massacres on this meteor! Which part of that doesn't get through your fucking pan?!"
When you look back at the person in question, you don't see that deadly anger anymore. On the opposite really, his expression has changed to something you can't quite put your finher on — a little worried and sad, but also warm and adoring and just competely focused on Karkat, like he blended out everything else in this admittedly empty place but him. If you were a troll, you'd probably call it pity. But you're not, so there's no fucking way you'd do that, screw that word, you're sticking with your first description.
You almost feel a little awkward and out of place as you watch the pale alien-show expand in front of you and wonder if you could just leave —
Oh nevermind, the moment Insane Clown Posse-fan number one glances back at you, all the love he felt for his boyfriend washes right out of his face and the only thing left is hate. Karkat runs a hand over his face, clearly unpleased with the situation and then turns his attention to you.
"What are you doing here, Strider?" he repeats the question his friend has asked you so kindly two minutes ago.
"Nothing much, just enjoying the scenery of the local landscape and also having the incredible privilege to find you here too. Not to mention that the juggalo almost bushed my fucking head in. No biggie."
Out of the corner of your eye you can see Gamzee grinning a bit. Asshole.
"If you wanted to hang out so badly, you could've just left a message on my pulmhusk, you know. Maybe that would've been better than going on a shit-march over the whole meteor in search for me. But who am I to judge, maybe leaving texts for someone to answer later just isn't cool enough for you."
As Karkat speaks out 'cool' he makes this little up and down motion with his fingers, putting it in quotes that tell you his opinion on the word is undoubtedly not the best. You roll your eyes behind your shades and take him by the arm, moving a little bit away from the guy that continuously tries to kill you with a death-stare to have some sort of private conversation.
"Dude, what are you even doing here? This is like the saddest fucking place we could ever wander to on this rock. You know there are a bunch of sad places around, so that has to mean something. And with him out of all people? I don't wanna pretend I know what I'm talking about but I think you could have definitely gotten a better one. Didn't he kill at least four of you? And what about the juggalo-germs? What if he gives you juggalo-germs, Karkat? Have you thought about that?!"
As you whisper-shout dramaticaly into Karkats face, you take your left hand and place it on the side of your mouth, your fingers blocking the view of it, so no near bystanders can see what you're talking about.
"He isn't going to give me anything aside from a mild headache! Calm your ass down Dave, it's not like he—"
"Hold up your hand."
"I said you gotta hold up your hand, man or he'll hear us."
"That doesn't make any goddamn sense."
"It makes the most perfect, unironically sense there ever was. Now do it."
"Fuck no! Do you want me to look like a retarded imbecile?"
"Karkat, when someone has a quiet conversation with another one, they always hold up their hands for that. It's like the first rule of whispering, everybody knows it."
"No one knows that, you stupid fuck. And I sure as hell am not doing it."
"Just hold them up, man."
"You know you want to."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"You motherfuckers doing alright there?"
"SHUT UP!" Karkat and you yell at the figure in the background, this time in unison. That's totally worth a fuck yeah!
For Karkat, in turn, it is not because he inhales deeply and takes a few steps away, eyes jumping back and forth between you and Gamzee, looking like he's trying to make sense of what to do next.
"Ok first off, I cannot even comprehend how this whole situation could get so fucking shitty all of a sudden and nor do I care. But there is a limit of how much ass-fuckery I can fit in my scale especially build for moments like this, and let me tell you, the top was already reached a long time ago. So now all of this junk is just spilling down on the floor, waiting for me to let it all out in form of something that won't be pretty for anybody involved."
"So you," he comes up to you, finger pointed, "no more of those unbelievable stupid demands or smug remarks from which you know exactly they'll drive me up the fucking wall!"
"And you," now his other lecture-victim gets to feel the accusing finger of harshness, "just gather the fuck up what is left in that dysfunctional part you think with and behave!"
...You can't help it. You really can't.
"Whoa there, Karkat! I guess I can try to cut back with those super useful requests and tips for you, but the smug remarks? Never man, like there's just no way I could possibly pass an opportunity to bring them. See?"
Yep, there it is. The furious and priceless glare you were going for. Maybe it's a good day after all.
"Hey no need to be losing your motherfucking chill at him, brother. I can up and do that," remarks the clown who's repositioned himself back to Karkat's side. Dammit he really does follow him like a puppy, doesn't he? His glare still isn't the friendliest.
When Karkat looks about ready to give him another strict talk, you kind of zone out, putting a hand in your pocket and checking your watch on the other one, only to be reminded that you don't have a watch, which is pretty sad because you're supposed to be the knight of time and knowing how late it is would be a really fine start. You slip this hand in your pocket as well and play it off as a weird scratch or something, but when you look up again you see them staring at you expectantly. Gamzee with a puzzled expression, cocking his head a bit and Karkat just raising an eyebrow. Great, they must have talked to you and then seen your inner struggle.
"Uh, what?" elegantly asked as always. You're just nailing it today.
Karkat is the one who answers, " I wanted to know if we're going to stand here until someone actually loses something that should be attached to his body."
Seems like a nice opportunity to finally leave again. Of course you jump at it, "Oh yeah, I was wondering when you'd run out of creative ways to insult us, and retreat. Honestly feeling the same here though. It's extremely tiring listening to your endless ramblings once you get into it, you know. Well, hold your horses 'cause here's my plan. You pick up the anger that was so wonderfully described for us earlier and get your second shadow," Gamzee's ears perk up at that, affronted, "and we all go our separate ways. Sound good?"
"No, bulgelord! That... actually that does sound good. How come?"
You shrug, "Just one of my brilliant ideas slipping out to greet you. And there's much more where that came from, trust me."
"Yeah. I can imagine."
For a few long moments, there's this awkward silence again and when Karkat claps his hands in front of him to put an end to your meet up, it's probably louder than he intended it. His goodbye is a mix between nodding and glaring, before he turns on his heels and walks the other direction. He doesn't go far though because his pet clown hasn't joined him and now he is coming back, gritting his teeth. You hold back a smirk. It failed spectacularly.
As Karkat grabs his arm and begins to drag him along you shout, "Hey, next time we have a double date how about you inform me properly first! Then I could bring Terezi, too!"
The response you get is a rude gesture Karkat makes with his free hand over his shoulder without looking back.
Sooo, that was one experience you could've gladly not have had in life. Nice. You're going to write that down later. You're making a list. But now you need to find other things to do, lets see... You could go look for another potential boredom-cure, like maybe the mayor. Yeah, the mayor sounds just about what you need right now. You should have definitely just gone for him in the first place. Welp, here goes nothing, now you gotta search for his cute, chubby ass instead. Better start with it before there's no time left anymore to hang out.
Your name is Gamzee Makara and you are watching.
In motherfucking fact, you got your watch on at your little Diamond-bro, who's all to be catching some z's in your lab right now. He's letting you hold him — all safe and trusting — and you get to feel his tremendous heat flushing right through your body. Ain't no one of your race you can remember what got hotter blood than him. A fucking miracle if you ever seen one. Though you have to say, your memories about life on Alternia are all at being a bit foggy and you can only grasp them through a blurred curtain of sweeps long Sopor-addiction. You're back in your special jam-block up on the pile again and while holding him close, you let your mind go wild a bit.
Took the motherfucker long enough making up his pan and deciding to let you finally be, then hurrying away to where he was all coming from. Same one what sent you all this blasphemous shit so long ago. He's gotten the message though, you think. Won't even so much as get a hint of the idea to be strolling around these parts again, you'll make sure of that. Fucking humans and their unrighteous ways of action, always behaving like they ain't got no care in the world.
All them heinous sinners gonna be motherfucking sorry when you bring about the glorious birth of your most holy and mirthful lord. Just get your patience on real tight and wait for it to happen, that's the prayer what spreads itself up in your pump biscuit. You have your blood-brother Kurloz all willing to give you hand whenever you need. Can't say you got the likes at him but he's getting shit done. And he don't talk much, which is good.
Anyway, all that noise gotta be a story for another day.
"Don't you think you've kept him from real social contact long enough now, Mister Makara?"
You look up, all in defense of your brother still sleeping and clinging to you, and spit a snarl at the intruder. In the doorframe stands your girl, straight-backed, both hands on cane in front of her and red glasses sparkling shiny against surrounding darkness. She's looking like she's getting her act ready in court, collecting answers and counters to untold questions. Like she's about to lay the wicked judgement on you. A glare is all she's getting, something what indicates half smirk and half 'you better leave.'
"Come on now, get lost in the vents or whatever it is you do," her hand is making a shoo motion, as if you were being some kinda motherfucking barkbeast to just scare away, "I'll keep an eye on him."
"You can't see," you tell at her, smile widening.
Her posture shifts — fast as lightening but you still got your notice on — and she's making her way over, brows knitted together all hurt like. She don't want to be showing it, but you know she is. You motherfucking know what buttons to push on your girl to get her wheeling in black pitch.
She slowly gets herself standing before you and, in a flicker of movement, snaps her cane mid-ways to hold its razor blade in your face. You don't flinch. Least not as long as there's still another troll all being in this block. Sister wouldn't want him to wake up or get scared or what. You eye the weapon, then her.
Her answer is heated, "If you weren't hiding behind drool face the first there like a coward, you would be so butt-kicked right now."
"Don't be blaming a motherfucker for wanting a few good laughs," you shoot back. She don't look like she's getting you, so you clarify, " It was a joke."
"You know what else is? The amount of time you two spend in this dumb here. I barley smell his grumpy ass nowadays and when I get to talk to him, he's almost always in a hurry. Some other people might want to speak to him too, you know."
"Sis, you got the impression I care?" you try keeping your vocals at bay, as to not letting your bro come to his senses at this. Normally it's nothing for you. But then comes your girl around, getting her involvement into the matter, voices are raised, and she's just making it so motherfucking difficult.
"Well, maybe it would be best if you didn't meet as often then," she says.
The rumble of a growl raises in your throat as you hear those words come out her squawk gaper and you reach out with your voodoos to poke in her pan, putting a few mild dayterrors in there, nothing too much. You can sense an unsettling panic growing on her part, but she ain't shifting one bit and keeps standing in your line of view stubbornly, though the grip on her cane tightened and got all shaky. Trolls of her shade would be pissing their pants and motherfucking begging on knees, with screamed-out lungs and cried-out eyes if you pushed hard enough, hitting them full force. But right now you ain't being like to do so, not with him here. Head turned down, you stop the fear mongering and stare at your bro, but the longer you do, the more the motherfucking pity starts flooding your acid tracts and you carefully get your move on out of the pile.
Terezi's got her cane all stuffed away again and you take time to give her one last scowl, saying, "Then get to it, sis. Snuggle up real good right beside him. But don't be thinking I'll let you the fuck out of my radar. I'll get my know on to when you're up to shit. That's a motherfucking promise."
You stomp past her when she's all bumping her shoulder into yours on full intentions, and that's what got you to turn and look at her again. With a face dead-serious, she starts chuckling. It sounds more up on the broken, sad side.
"Just know that, Gamzee..."
Your girl is getting right in front of you, all standing on tip-toes to say it directly at your face.
"You're not going to come far like that."
"Don't be talking in riddles, sister. What d'you mean?"
"Treason. You're turning against your team."
"Ain't so much a team as motherfuckers being trapped together."
"Now you're distorting the facts. I believe there's special treatment for accused like you in court."
"Just motherfucking pity the court's up and empty all with jurists like you."
"Getting offensive usually means losing your nerves during trial. It's always the same. First they throw around with everything they've got, and then they crack. Is this being the case here?"
"You don't want to be having your sniffnub any near me when I'm getting my offensive on prober, sis. You ain't even got a motherfuckin' glimpse on what you gone into here."
"That would be a bluff. Nothing I've never heard from other subjects held for questioning. You bore me."
"Stop the fucking ass bitch law babbling!"
"Why? Is it provoking you?"
She's leaned in so close your noses almost up and touch, and you got the feel of her hot breath coming with every word. You say nothing. Motherfuck, girl won that round.
Backing off, she gives you her big crocedile-smile, showing pointy rows of white teeth what's normaly got to be meaning motherfucking business. Now and then you're getting tempted to just rip it clean off her face, other times it makes you want to grin back. Today... you ain't decided on that yet. She turns away, obviously being done with your shit, and you aim your next steps for the exit. Or so you thought.
"One day it'll all come back to us."
You blink, stopping in your tracks. The fuck?
"I mean not just you. It's about all of us. Justice always finds a way to make the ones who've done wrong pay. The traitors, the murderers, the liars. You believe in that too, don't you?"
The fuck is she getting at?!
"It's probably nothing, but I have a feeling something bad is going to happen in the new session. Something that will... change a lot, may it be for better or worse. Something that will show all sinners what's coming to them."
You get a look at her over your shoulder. She's placed herself onto the hard ground near the pile. With how she's acting, you almost search for something teal dripping down. Can't see any though. Her next line she whispers; you hear anyways, "The problem is I can't tell anymore if I'm one of them or not..."
She sniffs, rubs her nose a few times, then is nothing but a trembling, unhappy smile, "All I wanted to say is maybe we should enjoy this trip we're making. Because the way I understand it, things won't be as easy when we're there."
Now, with glasses and cane being put in her lab, you get your focus on at her empty red orbs. They're starring back but a touch too low, only meeting your chest at level, destroying last illusions of her not being completely blind. Couldn't even fool a motherfucking grub like that.
You keep watching her, as if she got you deep in some hypnosis shit you can't break out of. It's only when your pale-bro's nap gets lighter and he starts stirring without a motherfucker to get his hold on to, that your own eyes manage to pull away from her. You look him over — maybe too long, maybe too much — then turn back to your girl and sending a careful nod at her direction. You register too late there ain't no sense in it.
"Yeah, motherfucking amen to that, sister."
She stays still, pan and hands resting on one bent knee, looking thoughtful. You've known her different once, tougher with more passion and joy, always setting each goal higher than the other. Now some fuckers might even get mind to try and cheer her up. Though if she was seeking for pity, maybe she should've looked in some parts other than the black areas of her quadrants. This girl ain't the same, not even being close. She's something entirely else now. Heh, well.
Guess you're not the only one what changed.
You make your abscond at the two, and wander the dark hallways on the search for a few places you got your know of to be yours mostly. As you go, you get serious thoughts on to how you could slaughter all of these motherfucking motherfuckers someday, simply because they deserve. But you're stopping yourself. Ain't supposed to be doing that, you promised Karkat.
So instead, you just think on him.
So uh Karkat's sure got some tight sleep, huh