(no subject)
2:16:00
The sky is getting light around the lake. 92 hours without sleep and counting. But hell, after six hundred hours without during the game, a little more won't make him any crazier. Birgus is sensibly headed back under the sand--crabs are nocturnal too--but Karkat stays leaning against the harlequin crab's favorite tree, his mind following the same dismal Moebius loop of exhaustion and responsibility.
He has to go back.
He doesn't want to go back.
But he has to go back.
He's doomed--Kanaya is dead, the future is broken, he is doomed--but he doesn't have to die as a failure.
Everybody Has An Important Job To Do.
It's when he feels like this that Kanaya has always been the most help; when his self-loathing and helplessness wear him down and he needs to know someone somewhere believes in whatever stupid thing he is bent on now. He remembers those first moments cowering in the meteor after Jack attacked, everything in ruins and disarray and hope apparently gone.
How alone, and exhausted, and completely forlorn he was, posting another memo he knew no one would ever read or care about or reply to. And then she reached up out of the past and--
Damn it.
His self-pitying internal monologue is disrupted by a chirp from his portable chat device. Irritably, he checks the sender...
...and pales...
The sky is getting light around the lake. 92 hours without sleep and counting. But hell, after six hundred hours without during the game, a little more won't make him any crazier. Birgus is sensibly headed back under the sand--crabs are nocturnal too--but Karkat stays leaning against the harlequin crab's favorite tree, his mind following the same dismal Moebius loop of exhaustion and responsibility.
He has to go back.
He doesn't want to go back.
But he has to go back.
He's doomed--Kanaya is dead, the future is broken, he is doomed--but he doesn't have to die as a failure.
Everybody Has An Important Job To Do.
It's when he feels like this that Kanaya has always been the most help; when his self-loathing and helplessness wear him down and he needs to know someone somewhere believes in whatever stupid thing he is bent on now. He remembers those first moments cowering in the meteor after Jack attacked, everything in ruins and disarray and hope apparently gone.
How alone, and exhausted, and completely forlorn he was, posting another memo he knew no one would ever read or care about or reply to. And then she reached up out of the past and--
Damn it.
His self-pitying internal monologue is disrupted by a chirp from his portable chat device. Irritably, he checks the sender...
...and pales...