towerofanimus | An Outfit Changed, An Identity Reclaimed.

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An Outfit Changed, An Identity Reclaimed.

Characters: The Dolorosa and YOU!
Setting: 15th floor, the workshop
Format: Basically whatever, if you want to do chocolate things drop a note here!
Summary: Dolorosa is working with some textiles when she gets interrupted?
Warnings: Possible violence and chocolate plot business.

[ Dolorosa had been working on this dress for a couple weeks now, collecting what scraps she could that fit her needs, but they weren't always easy to come by. It was the veiled cape that had been the most difficult, but she'd finally found the right material, and had gotten the dye to properly take.

It was almost finished, and soon she would't have to continue wearing this silly jumpsuit any longer. It only needed one last addition: her sign. It had been sweeps since she'd last worn it, or even been allowed to see it, but she ever forgot its shape, and so making the thread follow her whims until it took form was accomplished without mistake, and only the slightest pause.

It was a form of therapy, this dress. A reclamation of her identity. Within the hour, once properly garbed, she would once again be fully herself. ]

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[He paused, dropping the torn fabric in his hand and putting said hand to his mouth in contemplation. Had he talked to her before? He... couldn't quite remember. There was green text, and at the time he had thought it had been Kanaya... it was Kanaya, wasn't it? He'd called her Kanaya, and she hadn't corrected him, at least. But this woman had Kanaya's color, and her symbol for that matter. Things like that wouldn't escape Gamzee's memory that easily.]

I, uh, well... maybe? Was all... getting my networky fuckin' chat on with a jadesis what's before? But... a brother's pretty motherfuckin' sure she was to be all his other good friend, and, uh, not yourself. I think...

[Scratching his head now. He's thoroughly confused, until she turns the subject back to his attire.]

Oh... whoa, how you fuckin' go all to be able to do that shit? You fuckin' magic? Shit's got a big hole in it...

I imagine, then, that this tear is a result from meeting that same unpleasant individual.

[ It doesn't answer the question of ancestry, but she is at least aware, now, of who he refers to. Cautiously, she moves a hand to touch the shirt in question. ]

It...wouldn't be accomplished through magic, no, as that is a thing I have no power over, much less an assurance of any existence thereof. But through the same methods by which I made my dress, we could weave some material to properly close this garish void present in it.

Aww, brother ain't all bad. For real! Some peeps gotta all up and get that motherfuckin' noise outta their chutes a fuckin' lot of the time, is all. Plus, uh... I think I all wasn't to actually be what's a thing he was all expecting to have in, like, descendant-form, or something. Guess I kinda gone and all fucked the shit up in that way. But it's all good, ain't can be gettin' my please on of every motherfucker what's out there, you know?

[He shrugs it off, head bobbing down to where she was touching his shirt. The contact didn't phase him in the slightest.]

Whoaaa, you ain't gotta work all the stitchy miracles on this motherfucker's shit if you don't wanna. Ain't never got to be gettin' the experience on with that shit, else a brother'd all get up at his own mystical fix of all his other clothes!

[He laughs. Most of his other clothes could have used a stitch or thirty, but his trunk had only had one shirt and one pair of pants inside. Come to think of it, this was probably his best shirt. Well, not anymore. Thanks, Highblood!]

A lack of expectation does little to excuse such cruelty. It was an intolerable unkindness for him to burden you with such a reaction.

[ She releases the shirt and starts digging through her scraps for a suitable patch, and thread to go along with it. ]

But it shouldn't be any excessive inconvenience for me to effect such a repair. It could be completed in an hour or so, if it's an accomplishment you'd like me to undertake. You will, however, first need to remove the item of apparel.

Whoa, you fuckin' think so? Naww, motherfucker probably just ain't to be havin' all the best of fuckin' days. Every bro and sis be gettin' their grouch on what's all now and a fuckin' gain.

[He nods happily, sending bangs into his eyes again and swatting them away just as quickly.]

This motherfucker all to be wicked appreciative of the offering of a sister's stichy magic on his fuckin' shirt hole, for real.

[He smiled sincerely, attempting to remove his shirt. He had to wiggle it a bit over his horns, but had it off soon enough. The garment was dropped to the table unceremoniously, as he had no qualms about his sudden lack of clothing. He probably should have, however, for he was not the best sight to behold. A diet of sopor slime and Faygo doesn't give one the most picture perfect of physiques. He was angular, underweight, and had limbs that went on for miles.]

Uhh... I ain't got no motherfucking place to be all like, having to get back to, so, uh... it okay with a sister if I fuckin' get my observe on of the magic inner-workings of this shit?

Edited 2012-02-29 09:49 (UTC)

[ She folds her dress neatly and sets it to the side, laying out his shirt in its place, and her materials along with it as she starts surveying the tear and sizing a few scraps to serve as patches. ]

I would think it should be allowable that you remain. In fact, lacking any replacement to your ensemble, it may be inappropriate that you venture beyond this room.

[ He probably wouldn't kill her in the process, she hoped, but it would be better not to anger him, either way. Though she couldn't help noticing his undernourishment with some concern. ]

Child, what is it that they feed you that would encourage such a gaunt physique? Your lusus should be more mindful of your dietary intake.

[He looks on with interest as she prepares to work, now climbing on top of the table to get a better view, since she'd given him permission to stay. He folds his legs beneath him, fixated on her movements while organizing the materials.

When she addressed him next, it took him a long while to respond, for he was lost in his own mind. He eventually came around, however, and sat up a little straighter to shift focus.

Her question elicited a chuckle from him, and he patted his front side thoughtfully.]

Hahaha, just the way a motherfucker's all to be. Can't be all wantin' to change somethin' that ain't to be what's a thing that can be fuckin' different, you feel me?

[A beat of pause, not losing face in the slightest.]

A brother ain't never once got shit for slammin' pies and Faygo.

[Well, he got shit from his friends, but that isn't quite what she asked.]

[ She found a suitable patch and threaded her needle with a matching thread, then began to work in applying it. She might not be able to repair something like this seamlessly, but she could at least give it her best attempt.

Once she has her needlework started, she glances back up at him. ]

What variety of pie could provide so little nourishment as to leave you in as emaciated a state as I currently find within my view? This is not an act of unchanging fate, little one, but a result of negligence and poor nutrition!

[He crept closer, sticking his neck out until he could see her thread the needle. How'd she get the tiny string through the hole like that? If he'd had tried that shit, it would have taken him sweeps. He smiled excitedly as she started to fix the tear, now watching her slip the needle between the fabric and through her fingers in a careful, fluid motion. Without glancing up from watching her, he chirps happily:]

Sopor pie, motherfucker! Bake it all up my fuckin' self!

[ Her threading suddenly stops. She looks up at him as if his nose had just dropped off his face and danced away into the night. ]

You cannot possibly be making an authentic statement. There is no sustenance to be gained from such an ingestion!

[He glances up when she halts, confused for a moment. The look she gives him catches him off guard, and he breaks into a laugh.]

Shit fuckin' yeah I be spewin' the motherfucking truth at you, yo! Hahaha!

Ain't all no truth in that, my wicked jade sister. Pies be more than a motherfucker ever's to be all in need of. Fill this brother all up with the miracles, they fuckin' do! We gotta be all to get at passin' the mystical snot sometime, for real. Be dope as the shit's tits, it motherfuckin' would.

[He offered a smile, resting an elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand.]

[ She has no idea what any of that even means. ]

Er. Given the highly evident lack of dietary nutrition you've been receiving, I highly doubt that is the case! Your continued survival would make actual consumption of genuine food vital, and avoiding such for so poor a substitute simply cannot continue.

Moreover, I would really appreciate if you would be more mindful of the language you employ. Both in its excessive vulgarity and its extreme lack of clarity!

[He shrugged, flopping his hands against his legs in defeat.]

If you all fuckin' to be saying so, sister. Ain't gonna all say this motherfucker's got any idea of what all he be doin' anyway. Dunno what all else I'm gonna be to get at eating, though.

[Her scolding causes him to shrink back, staring at his untied shoes sheepishly.]

Oh, uh... sorry. I'll try to all be fuckin' better 'bout that shit.

...Er, sorry.

[ He wasn't angry at her insolence. This was curious, even Signless gave her more trouble as a child. She almost felt a little guilty. ]

They have a meager selection in the cafeteria, though there is one more involved menu at the restaurant, should you be willing to fulfill their expenses.

[ She took her needle back up and continued her work. ] I would be willing to escort you to either, should you be willing to indulge the occasion.

Edited 2012-03-05 06:09 (UTC)

[Eugh, the cafeteria. Strange memories and varying emotions had been connected to that place since he'd arrived. Well, maybe the good feelings associated with it could tip the scales soon enough. He practically hopped in place at her nonchalant offer, an (almost unbelieving) grin streaking across his face.]

Hahaha, fuckin' really!? [A pause, putting a hand to his mouth.] I mean, uh, really!? You'd all want to kick the wicked shit with a brother after you be done with the fuckin' stitchy obligations you all got toward him?

[ She sighs. He's apparently trying with the language, at least, but it's so ingrained a habit that she'll need to put more work into weaning him off of it.

She's dealt with worse. ]

I feel it would only be a continuance of the matters which would inspire such intervention. It's necessary to see to it that you are fed, therefore I will personally fill the supervisory role.

[He is visibly pleased. Someone wants to hang out with him yeah!]

Motherfuck yeah! That'd be the dopest noise what's happening at a brother all goddamn day, would fuckin' be! 'Sides gettin' this shit all fixed, I motherfuckin' guess.

[Okay the language was back to normal. Come on, you can't expect him to remember to keep a lid on it for long. He peers over to inspect her progress in excitement... then pauses, suddenly struck with a thought. His mouth sets curiously, not exactly a pleasant expression, but nothing ominous, either. He tilts his head up slightly to meet her eyes.]

Don't mean to come all off like I got my fuckin' bulge in a twist or nothing. But, uh... what got a sister all fuckin' wanting to stick her nose up in this motherfucker's business like you be such all to doin' right the fuck now?

[Adults were supposed to be frightening and bloodthirsty. Gamzee was dumb, but he wasn't completely oblivious - especially after his first encounter with one. To be fair, it wasn't entirely her docile nature that was disconcerting. It was the fact that she had such an interest in his well-being. No one was ever really keen on giving him the time of fucking day, so what the fuck gives!?]

[ she wags her finger at him, this time not in so harsh a chiding as a gentle reminder ] Now, now, do mind your language.

In truth, while it may be considered aberrant behavior by our compatriots, I would find any treatment in your direction which is anything less than compassionate to be unconscionable! You are not the first young troll to suffer my kindness, and while I have any capability within me to continue it, I would not have you be the last, either.

Tell me, child, what is your name?

[Oh, it actually felt better to know he wasn't being singled out as a recipient of her selflessness. The fact that every troll she encountered (he thought) could be treated with such care just seemed to endear her to him more. He had never quite experienced a generosity like this before. Or, at all, really.

He winces at her reminder (again) about the profanity.]

Sooooorry...

[But, he perks back up when she asks his name, extending a hand eagerly for an introductory shake.]

I'm Gamzee, mo- er, uh, ma'am! [MA'AM DID HE REALLY JUST SAY MA'AM ALERT THE FUCKING PRESS WHO IS THIS CHILD.] What you all at to be called, then?

[ She takes his hand with a smile, though a little overwhelmed by the eagerness with which he shakes hers. ]

I'm charmed to have made your acquaintance, Gamzee. I am myself known as The Dolorosa.

[He's starting to notice a pattern, here. He takes his hand back eventually, fidgeting with the hem of his baggy pants.]

Any of you big mo-- dudes be having a name like what's we little peeps be to having? Or you all go around with like, other shit to be called?

[ She turns back to her sewing as she explains. ]

At one point, when we were nearer your age. Well, in most cases of which I have some awareness, at least.

Eventually, these names are shed like unto a chrysalis, as the assumption of such a title marks one's proper maturity. Though they don't entirely override the need for names, when those should arise between your close acquaintances, or through reputation.

Edited 2012-03-10 17:09 (UTC)

Whoaa...

[He considers this, drawing his knees up to his chest and putting a finger to his lip.]

You all get to, like, be making up the shit your fuckin' self?

Not exactly.

[ She continues threading his shirt, pondering how exactly to phrase this. ]

The title which you inherit will be appropriate to your station and history, and, in some cases, is said to be indicative of your further destiny.

Oh...

[He looks somewhat disappointed at this, his chances of becoming The Polka-Dotted Patriarch seeming to slip farther and farther away. This train of depressing thought didn't last long, however, and he was back to being upbeat.]

Hey! It's all like, gettin' all to motherfucking be back together and shit!

[In his excitement, he reaches over to grab the garment from her hands mid-stitch, holding it up in front of his face and studying the work-in-progress. It certainly was a rude action, but he hadn't intended it to be.]

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god she's so fabulous

she just needs all these babies to be taken care of

no worries dolorosa he's a big boy he can take care of himself

like she would ever believe that no matter how true

hey he's still alive that counts for... something... maybe

it counts in that it's gotten him far enough to be steered differently afasc

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PUNTS BACKTAG AND WEEPS IN APOLOGY

CLUTCHES TO CHEST AND HUGS FOREVER

CURLS UP IN METAPHORICAL BOSOM