♋ and ♑: Gargle with peroxide, a steak for your eye... [closed]
Characters: Karkat Vantas, Gamzee Makara
Location: Death City's jail.
Rating: PG-13 for trollmouth and cray-cray.
Time: Dec 19th, very late.
Description: Gamzee has been restrained, but he's far from okay. A leader must do what is best for his people, even when it's really, really stupid.
Getting in out of the cold was a relief, even with trolls unaccounted for and friends in the clinic and the constant thrumming reminder in Karkat's head that this was almost entirely his fault. He swallowed back a surge of bitterness and pushed the thought aside. Everything was always his fault, after all. If nothing else, his time in the Veil had made that clear. He was destiny's whipping boy, so why wasn't he used to it by now?
He wasn't sure how Gamzee was going to react to the pie, so he held it behind his back. It rots you, Gamzee had once told him. Not all that long ago, from his perspective. Something about how it puts a hole in you and you stare at it and bluh bluh bluh shut the fuck up, Gamee-in-Karkat's-head. It didn't matter. If something wasn't done, he was going to stay sick and enraged. If he got out again, he might succeed in killing someone. That shit couldn't fly.
Karkat wondered, absently, if it would go differently this time. Gamzee had no psychic abilities here, but if that was what he had used to calm the dipshit down in the first place... better not think about that. He probably wouldn't last a minute in the cage with the guy who once offered him sodas and surprised him with stealth hugs and tried to cheer him up with jokes only to forget the punchline.
It didn't matter. He already knew he was going to be stupidly stubborn about this. Once the door to Gamzee's cell was open, he stepped in quickly, still holding the pie behind his back. He heard the door clang shut behind him and tried to keep the fear off his face and out of his voice.
"Hi again, idiot."
He was almost successful.
((OOC: Feel free to action it up, I just feel weird starting a log without prose!))
Location: Death City's jail.
Rating: PG-13 for trollmouth and cray-cray.
Time: Dec 19th, very late.
Description: Gamzee has been restrained, but he's far from okay. A leader must do what is best for his people, even when it's really, really stupid.
Getting in out of the cold was a relief, even with trolls unaccounted for and friends in the clinic and the constant thrumming reminder in Karkat's head that this was almost entirely his fault. He swallowed back a surge of bitterness and pushed the thought aside. Everything was always his fault, after all. If nothing else, his time in the Veil had made that clear. He was destiny's whipping boy, so why wasn't he used to it by now?
He wasn't sure how Gamzee was going to react to the pie, so he held it behind his back. It rots you, Gamzee had once told him. Not all that long ago, from his perspective. Something about how it puts a hole in you and you stare at it and bluh bluh bluh shut the fuck up, Gamee-in-Karkat's-head. It didn't matter. If something wasn't done, he was going to stay sick and enraged. If he got out again, he might succeed in killing someone. That shit couldn't fly.
Karkat wondered, absently, if it would go differently this time. Gamzee had no psychic abilities here, but if that was what he had used to calm the dipshit down in the first place... better not think about that. He probably wouldn't last a minute in the cage with the guy who once offered him sodas and surprised him with stealth hugs and tried to cheer him up with jokes only to forget the punchline.
It didn't matter. He already knew he was going to be stupidly stubborn about this. Once the door to Gamzee's cell was open, he stepped in quickly, still holding the pie behind his back. He heard the door clang shut behind him and tried to keep the fear off his face and out of his voice.
"Hi again, idiot."
He was almost successful.
((OOC: Feel free to action it up, I just feel weird starting a log without prose!))