[32] time after time

[coolbowtie]

[Voice.]

[The Doctor comes on the line and it's almost hard to recognize that it's him. The usual cheery arrogance is completely gone, replaced by a maniac fear. He seems to be unsure of where he is or whom he is speaking to.]Hello! Is anyone there?! Don't just stand around, answer the bloody phone

Comments

[crusthatecean]

[He's mostly come down from his earlier state, but the traces of it are still affecting him enough that the pronouncement over the phone that Gamzee and Jade are dead is enough to nearly send him into another spiral of panic.

But he pushes that away; it's obvious that this is yet another victim of something that Mayfield is doing.

He doesn't know how to feel about the Doctor and doesn't quite trust him, especially now that he's told him far, far more than he's comfortable with a stranger knowing about him and about Gamzee.

On the other hand, if he sees the Doctor's weaknesses, he won't feel as weak and pathetic himself. At least that's how he justifies it to himself, some warped sense of revenge for seeing him like that rather than any sort of concern. The kindest thing to do to someone in this situation would be to leave them alone and let them pretend nothing happened.

He goes looking, and eventually he'll find him in the garage.

So time lords bleed just like humans, too.]

[coolbowtie]

Karkat... you're alive. Jade... Gamzee they're... dead? No... it wasn't them... was it?

[He runs a bloody hand down his face.]

[crusthatecean]

Shut up. Stop saying that.

[It hurts to hear they're dead even if he knows it isn't true. And it also bothers him in a way that's hard to define that the Doctor even cares so much he'd hallucinate them dead.]

No one is dead. You dealt with me going through the same fucking thing earlier. You've gone shithive maggots and you're painting in your own blood, jackass.

[coolbowtie]

...[He looks down at the words he wrote with his own blood. To him it's one hundreds of the message that paints the walls.]

I did?

[crusthatecean]

Yes, you useless fuck. You slashed up your hand in a reflection plate because you're flipping an acrobatic pirouette off the deep end.

[coolbowtie]

I... it's everywhere. I can't escape it. That date... the clocks are all ticking down ah!

[He feels like his eardrum just exploded, with all the ticking pounding in his head. He puts a finger in his ear and sees it come back bloody.]

[crusthatecean]

Wow you're being haunted by a date and time. My sympathy nodes are weeping themselves dry for you.

[Grabbing ahold of his hand to take a look at how bad the cut is.]

[coolbowtie]

[It's pretty bad, full of shards of glass.]

...Suppose I really don't want to die. If I keep seeing that date.

[crusthatecean]

No one wants to die. Self-preservation a basic enough instinct even sentient species are slaves to it, so it doesn't surprise me it affects you.

[He'll start picking out pieces of glass; just the small ones, leaving in the ones large enough that the wound will bleed too badly if he pulls it. He isn't gentle but he is careful not to make it worse.]

[coolbowtie]

I always thought time wasn't the boss of me. Never thought I had to worry about dying. Always had a plan, or a way out.

[He makes a soft sound when Karkat yanks out the glass, but not much more than that.]

[crusthatecean]

The nice thing about having an enormous ego or a belief in tremendous self-destiny like that is just how inevitable you're making your own disappointment in yourself.

Nice for spectators, I mean, not for you.

[coolbowtie]

Oh well, yes, that is how it goes isn't it?

[crusthatecean]

That's what I just said.

[coolbowtie]

Well, I'm used to it by now.

[crusthatecean]

You don't look used to it. At least, generally where I'm from, writing cryptic notes in your own blood isn't considered a sign you're keeping it together.

[coolbowtie]

Not usually, no. [He winces and grips his head, trying to ignore the ticking.] Keep seeing it everywhere though, didn't even know I wrote that one.