(no subject)
[AUDIO]
What in the fresh cinnamon-scented name of fuck was the point of that? Does this planet's astronomical neighborhood always do terrifying gimmicky bullshit related to your ridiculous holidays? It doesn't even fucking make sense! I broke a fucking repast platter and spilled my shitty dinner everywhere when the big shock came, so thanks for that, random sky monsters. I swear to god, I can't even find the broom in this fucking block! Apparently the theme of our imprisonment here is having to do everything the hard w--OW GODDAMMIT FUCK!
[...With no further warning, the transmission ends.]
[ACTION/PRIVATE]
[Meanwhile, fortunately(?) alone in room 321, Karkat is hunched over a pile of broken plate and cheap salad on the floor. He's cut his hand, drawing a little bit of completely normal, red blood.]
Oh fuck oh god what is this? What the fuck is this supposed to be? Is that my blood? Is that my blood? Oh god what the fuck. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? No, fucking seriously, that's not maroon, what the fuck? What's wrong with it? What's wrong with me? What...
[And suddenly, a memory is triggered. 3% spent on the nature of his mutation.
He cleans the wound immediately, carefully deals with the rest of the broken glass, and resolves never to speak of this again.]
What in the fresh cinnamon-scented name of fuck was the point of that? Does this planet's astronomical neighborhood always do terrifying gimmicky bullshit related to your ridiculous holidays? It doesn't even fucking make sense! I broke a fucking repast platter and spilled my shitty dinner everywhere when the big shock came, so thanks for that, random sky monsters. I swear to god, I can't even find the broom in this fucking block! Apparently the theme of our imprisonment here is having to do everything the hard w--OW GODDAMMIT FUCK!
[...With no further warning, the transmission ends.]
[ACTION/PRIVATE]
[Meanwhile, fortunately(?) alone in room 321, Karkat is hunched over a pile of broken plate and cheap salad on the floor. He's cut his hand, drawing a little bit of completely normal, red blood.]
Oh fuck oh god what is this? What the fuck is this supposed to be? Is that my blood? Is that my blood? Oh god what the fuck. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? No, fucking seriously, that's not maroon, what the fuck? What's wrong with it? What's wrong with me? What...
[And suddenly, a memory is triggered. 3% spent on the nature of his mutation.
He cleans the wound immediately, carefully deals with the rest of the broken glass, and resolves never to speak of this again.]