...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.