towerofanimus | [OPEN][BACKDATED] Stitch me back, one by one!

Entry tags:

[OPEN][BACKDATED] Stitch me back, one by one!

Characters: Jade!Eridan Ampora, and YOU!
Setting: Floor 15, the workshop.
Format: I'll start with action, but I'll match you.
Summary: In which Eridan pretends he knows how to sew. Spoilers, he doesn't. Backdated to before the Labyrinth event!
Warning: None? I'll add if necessary.

[It's really not that hard, he figures, to use his torn jacket as a pattern and make a new one with some scraps of red fabric lying around. It's just. Cutting fabric and sewing it together. How hard can it be?

Apparently, very hard and not really a project for the uninitiated.

He's left the whole mess on a workbench for now, focusing on patching up his other pair of pants. That, at least, he's relatively used to. It's not the neatest of stitch-work, but at least it'll hold.

At least, he thinks with grim amusement, he has two hands now, to do this. Otherwise it'd be well and truly hopeless.]

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[I want popcorn now. This is your fault. I also want to put them in a box and ship them to a deserted island and see what they do.

Eridan snickered at Equius outburst, smile turning into a self-deprecating smirk.]

Point.

[That is a terrible idea and we should do it this minute.]

[He looks up as if he's going to apologize, but seeing the expression on Eridan's face, he wisely keeps his mouth shut. That one didn't seem to insult him, and they were kind of... alone in here. (Hey, sewing is not the Tower's voted most popular activity, okay.) So instead he gives an awkward mouth-twitch and looks down, hoping that Eridan didn't catch that little procession. It was the result of a foreign and truly baffling force called 'free thought', and he didn't like it one bit.]

[...Well, okay, maybe he quietly did in his heart-of-hearts, past the point where he's even aware. But he can make himself think that he didn't, and that's the same exact thing!]

...And... these are... done, I think. [He looks them over, tugs at a few seams, and eventually nods in his satisfaction, folding them all into a neat pile. Shortly afterwards, his attention floats over to Eridan and his progress, even though it probably shouldn't considering his... novice abilities.]

[Why aren't you making a post to my musebox yet?

Eridan doesn't notice, by virtue of having a very serious battle of wills with his own stitches. He does look up, however, at the sound of Equius' voice. He blinks. And because he is a busybody, he tilts his head to the side.]

You ain't gonna paint them?

[I would if I knew what it was!]

...Um, no. [He looks down at them. Immediately he gets that feeling that shit's gonna start sucking really, really soon. He should have expected this.] I... no, they're just... signless.

[Meanwhile, the metaverse groans, knee-deep in all the irony of it.]

[Eridan stared at Equius, hard enough the force of the groaning metaverse makes his glasses slide down his nose.]

Uh. Why?

[...]

[...He mumbles incoherently as a form of response, looking down at the clothes in his hand to justify looking at the ground.]

What?

[He's now leaning in, trying to hear.]

[Damn.]

[He sighs and explains, grudgingly; it begins with a sort of forced hardness like he just wants to get the sentence out of him, but like everything else, it fades to his typical escalating voice by the end.]

...The Grand Highblood told me that I ought to be wearing these, and I don't want to be the one to cross him.

[He should not feel as ashamed of himself as he does.]

...who the fuck is the Grand Highblood?

[Another Eridan stormed into the floor, just as Eridan formulated his question. Not the other Eridan in the tower, no, but the very same Eridan that was now staring at him curiously.]

You.

Me?

[Future!Eridan pulled the shovel out of his sylladex and then took aim, not unlike a baseball player. Eridan stood up, as if to scramble out of the way, but only managed to get a faceful of shovel that knocked him clear off his feet. Eridan watched him go and snarled.]

You're a grubfuckin', nooklickin' idiot.

[He ran a hand over his hair, smoothing the slightly ruffled strands properly. He put the shovel away and turned to Equius. He waved a hand over the folded black shirts.]

Past me is a fuckin' moron, Eq. Just... stick to the black shirts. And keep--

[He waved a hand at nothing in particular, as if he could grab the word from thin air. He gave up.]

--doin' whatever it is you do. I'm out 'a here. Fuck.

[And then he summoned his reels and summarily flung himself back to the future... where hopefully no one was doing anything unpleasant in the workshop. There. Perfect time-loop.

...enjoy your groaning, concussion'd present Eridan?]

[It took him a few seconds to think up all the words he had to say to describe the Grand Highblood, and also stop himself from screaming right off the Tower's edge. Fortunately, in that time, the scene had been effectively taken by another Eridan -- HOLY SHIT WHAT -- running right into the workshop -- HOLY SHIT WHAT -- looking really damn pissed -- HOLY SHIT WHAT -- and beating the first Eridan right over the head.]

[HOLY SHIT WHAT]

[He literally backs up when the second Eridan turns on him, fully convinced that there was some sort of murderous rampage deal going on and he was going to die. His composure doesn't get any better when the shovel is put away, though, and he is so tongue-tied by what just happened he can only stand there and watch as the second Eridan -- or, well, the future Eridan, considering the reels? -- warns him against the dangers of listening to his other self.]

[After a few seconds of standing there, blinking rather uselessly, Equius got it through his head what happened and pretty much whirled across the room, skidding to his knees near Eridan's head.]

[SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.]

[Eridan squinted at the ceiling.]

I hate that guy.

[He rubbed at his face, slowly, feeling tender skin and praying nothing was broken.]

Holy fuck, you have no idea how much I hate that guy.

Okay, um...

[Equius looks around, to see if there are any more future Eridans looking to commit bodily harm upon the original, but none appeared, so he focused his attention on Eridan and what the hell that shovel had done to him. There was no blood, as far as he could see; internal bleeding, maybe, but nothing external. So, um... concussion...? May... be...? He kind of sat there for a minute, trying to keep his face straight and remember how the hell you're supposed to know what a concussion looks like at the same time. It's not easy, and his face starts to phase back into the typical worried look while he thinks.]

[...Er, okay. He was knocked out for a few seconds there, right? That's what it looked like. Already not a happy sign. Um... shit. He squinted through Eridan's shades; at close range he could see through them, but there's no way to see if the pupils are dilated when he can't actually see the pupils.]

...Um, do you think you could open your eyes? Please?

Will jump off a cliff, see if I don't. See if he likes that, the asshole.

[Eridan muttered angrily, glad at least to know his nose wasn't broken. He startled a little at Equius's questions, tilting his head to the side and actually looking at the guy.]

What? Oh.

[He pulled himself up to a sitting position, taking off the sunglasses. He blinked a little, to adjust to the light-level, then offered Equius a crooked smile and a shrug.]

It's okay. See? It's just a concussion and a criminal headache. I'll punch future me for this at some point, and then it'll be fine. At least the fucker didn't knock out a fang.

[His expression didn't soften so much as turn wry.]

Don't worry about it.

N-no, please don't jump off a cliff... or punch anyone... um. I mean. [STFU SELF.] Just... be careful? Don't... don't do anything like that, uhm... if you really did sustain a concussion, we don't want a relapse, alright? [Equius Zahhak: stand-in nurse, seamster, lesser math deity, social cripple.]

...you say that like my entire life isn't a concussion in the making.

[Eridan's deadpan is safe and sound, though, isn't that great? Can you imagine the world deprived of such glorious deadpanning skills? The wryness intensifies.]

I'm sorry. Just... don't worry. This kind a' thing... happens. It's no big deal.

[Oh, praise the lord. Eridan without his snark would be like... well, it would be unnatural is what it would be. Still, it doesn't mean Equius is going to turn around and realize that everything's all fine and dandy because he's still practicing the higher art of deadpanning.] I know, but if you do something like that again while it's still healing, then it's probably going to cause something worse. You don't want to have brain damage until you die, do you?

[Oh dear.]

...is that a trick question?

[Eridan leaned in a little, squinting up at Equius somewhat. Yeah, he might be... a little confused. Whoops.]

[Deeeeeeeeeep sigh. Calm down, now is not the time for flipping shits.]

No, it's... it's not a trick question. See... [He sits down completely with legs folded, brushing off the floor first (as if that's going to help). This is going to take a while to explain. Expect lots of arm movements.] Um, when you actually get a concussion, it's... well, you take an injury to the head, and your brain... er, it kind of slams against your skull. After that, you just need to... you know, take it easy for a while? Because if you don't and you push it too hard while it's still healing, um... something can get seriously damaged. And... you won't be able to get out of it until you die again.

[It's kind of a disjointed explanation because he has to stop every few seconds, either to try and calm down or stuff back the part of his brain arguing that he shouldn't look so damn smart in front of a jadeblood. But, uh... he probably knows way too much about this stuff. And knowing Eridan, he would probably go into the future and try to punch the other one back.]

[Eridan snorted again, darkly amused. He let his head drop slightly to the side, listening to Equius voice but mostly staring at his jaw as he talks.]

Alright, alright. It's okay, I won't do anything rash.

[He let out a soft huff, closing his eyes for a moment, and reaching up to massage the base of his horns, where the headache was quickly settling in.]

As far as brain damage goes, I think I prefer Gamzee's methods... Thanks, Eq.

[After a moment, he reached a hand and patted Equius' knee, flashing him a smile as he rolled back to his feet. A tad less gracefully than usual, but not much. Eridan offered a crooked grin again, as well as a hand for Equius to stand up.]

Good thing sewing ain't that strenuous, right?

Gamzee's methods? What are you... [Wait, Gamzee's in the tower? ...Or does he mean the other Gamzee? Probably the other one, he would have seen ~~terribubble~~ terrible cat puns on the Network by now. Besides, Gamzee doesn't exactly commit brain damage to things, unless you count animals.]

[The expression on his face when Eridan petted him was... well, let's just say hilarious and leave it at that. Regardless, he took the other troll's hand, though of course after a moment's consideration -- 'being offered help by a jadeblood' vs. 'being offered help by a jadeblood'. Regardless, the side that wanted to listen to Eridan's command won out, and he did so -- though not without noticing the slight stagger.]

...Mm.

[Eridan swayed and tried to hide it by leaning in and looking at Equius over the rim of his sunglasses.]

Don't eat the pie.

[He sounded very serious, very severe as he said that. Then he shuddered.]

Trust me on that one.

[He just... stands there for a moment, looking at Eridan. And then...]

...We're going to the infirmary.

...why?

[But he just sat down... And he's fine! Honest.]

Are you okay?

Because-- you-- [He siiiighs again.]

I'm fine. You, however, are speaking nonsense, and you can't even stand up straight, so yes, we're going to the infirmary.

It's not nonsense!

[That. Oh boy. That might be close to a whine. And if Eridan is unconsciously curling up in his spot, much like a scolded grub, you will say nothing. He's trying to pick up his sewing from where he left it, except it fell under the table in the interlude, so now he's leaning down, one hand holding onto the bench while he reaches under to grab his work. He can't stand up straight, ha! Nonsense!

It's all about twisting yourself into the right shape and holding tightly onto the right things. He was fine, damnit, and he'll show Equius.]

You asked about Gamzee and brain damage! I'm just offering wise advice, stay the fuck away from the pie. Sopor hangovers are hell.

[Yes, this is your cue to make him smack his head into the bench.]

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