(Untitled)

[gotpoetryinme]

There's a man in a bowler hat and a fur overcoat sitting in a snowbank out back. He's currently looking out at the frozen lake, pistol in hand.

Not much interesting about him except for the fresh, gaping, self-inflicted headwound.

He's a little upset, but botherable.

Comments

[crabbycustomer]

In the dead of winter, the sun is like a tiny tarnished coin, and Karkat feels a lot better about being out here. It helps to tell himself that it is another moon. He is getting used to it.

So it is that there is a grey-faced adolescent with nubby but brightly-colored horns, kicking slush out of the worn path out to the forge. He is bundled up in a black corduroy jacket; the Cancer symbol is embroidered in red, which is another thing he's getting used to.

The guy with a hole in his head doesn't get a second look, because Karkat notices the problem on the first one. He can smell blood. "OH WHAT THE FUCK, I UNDERSTAND YOU CAN'T HELP BEING DEAD BUT YOU COULD AT LEAST COVER THAT SHIT UP. SOME OF US JUST ATE." Despite his bluster, his eyes are a little wide, and--it's hard to tell, but his pallor might be a little more pallid.

[gotpoetryinme]

McCabe turns his head. As he sees...it...he makes a strained, startled noise that sounds like a chicken being strangled. He slowly crabwalks backward, staring at the creature.

[crabbycustomer]

Karkat has been here long enough that his appearance is no longer the first thing he thinks of when humans flip out. He rolls his eyes. "JEGUS, DID YOU NOT KNOW YOU'RE DEAD? EXHIBIT A, THERE IS A HUGE FUCKING HOLE IN YOUR HEAD, DO THE MATH."

[gotpoetryinme]

McCabe isn't really listening. He slowly lifts his Austrian-made revolver and points it unsteadily at Karkat.

"G-get away from me, demon! You ain't takin' me to Hell!"

Let me know if I'm too late to join in

[starrydome]

He can smell the blood as he exits the stable, like a flash of red iron in the clear, cold air. He sprints down the path and doesn't stop till he reaches the Man in the snow; even if he at quite a distance can already tell that something is not quite right. You shouldn't be sitting upright with a wound like that.

He could tell him to sit still, but he is already doing so. Asking if he is hurt is foolish, but things are not what they seem here, not always, and so a simple question of, "Do you need help?" seems a good place to start.

His fingers are itching to do something about the wound.

Tall, imposing, clad in a dark grey woolen cloak and with unbound dark hair cascading like water and mist down his back, and eyes lit with the light of stars, he does not look human at all.

Re: Let me know if I'm too late to join in

[gotpoetryinme]

"'M alright," McCabe says, turning his head toward Elrond. "Can't nothin' hurt me no..."

He trails off when he notices the elf's more...peculiar features.

[starrydome]

If the son of Denethor can visit this place, though dead, logic dictates that others might be able to do the same.

It is still somewhat unsetteling. Of course, if it is unsetteling to him, chances are it is much worse being the one it is actually happening to.

"Do you need something to stop the bleeding?"

Not that it likely matters, but he might want to preserve his clothes.

[gotpoetryinme]

He shrugs. "Couldn't hurt, I s'pose," McCabe says. "Probably scare a few people, walkin' around with a big goddamn hole in my head." He grins weakly.