another day and i could've gone mad [open]

[tortileghostwriter]

Characters: David and you!
Setting: Hallways and floor 28, specify which in the subject line.
Format: Starting action, will match.
Summary: David's ...really not coping well with recent events and revelations. At all. He's practically falling apart, really. He decides to go to the music room to try creating...something to clear his head. As much as it's possible for a possessed kid to clear his head, anyway.
Warnings: Probably language in threads, potentially mindfuck and mild insanity. Also David being an arrogant prick.



[He knew that he hadn't escaped the labyrinth without a fresh set of mental scars.

Though, that much would have been obvious to anyone who knew him. David was barely keeping himself together--stressing the word barely. The maze and the "game" had been one thing, but the punishment...he was hardly sleeping, and when he did, it was fitful. What he saw still terrified him, still enraged him--but like hell would he admit it. The whole thing had been shown to the network, it wasn't as though he needed to say it even if he wanted to.

And then the network post from one of their oh-so-gracious "benefactors"...he hadn't contributed to the discussion, but he'd read it.

He still refused to believe the bulk of it.

Even as she spoke incessantly--still offering facetious comforts and coaxing, cajoling platitudes while trying to encourage him to lash out, or to trust her, to give in to her once again. He knew better.

He muttered refusals and demands for Yggdrasil to shut up--apparently to himself--in an attempt to get her to stop, if only for the moment. David looked around himself fitfully, still having an apparently one-sided conversation. That damnable twisting in his chest was as bad as ever, and his shadow was writhing even more than usual.]

A long climb up from here....no, nononono we had an arrangement Yggdrasil, we had a deal, leave me be, NO!

[It continues rather like that. He starts up the stairs--quickly, still apparently talking to himself. After a while he arrives in the music room. After a bit of digging, he had a pile of--fairly recent!--electronica equipment scrounged together. Synthesizer, turntable, sampling keyboard, drum machine, vocoder(not really his area, but it might be useful to experiment with)...not a bad spread. Not bad at all. He can work with this.

He cycles through the sampling keyboard's loops and picks one, adjusting some levels, running the sample through the synth to add to it, filter it, adjust it a bit further further, pitching it just right...after a few moments more of tinkering, he has the foundation of something he likes. A bassline comes together.

David moves on from there. To his slight surprise, Yggdrasil is speaking a bit less--and when she does speak, he's finding it easier to ignore her. It won't last, but for the moment, he welcomes the reprieve.

It won't do if his hands keep shaking, and more than a few sour notes are produced due to mistakes before he finally gets it under control. The failed notes are cleared, and fresher beats are cycled in to replace them. His head bobs to the beat, slowly, as he continues working.

Care to interrupt him?]

Comments

Floor 28

[windykind]

[John had heard someone talking to themselves on the staircase. The voice sounded familiar, but between the change in tone and the fact that he just wasn't that familiar with Dave's voice yet, he didn't pin it down until he saw the boy actively moving up, muttering to himself about nonsense words that... concerned him more than slightly. They sounded unsettlingly like how Rose had been talking when she was Grimdark. Frowning -- because you know he wouldn't let his friend go on like that, even if he was kind of a combination of two -- John treaded as quietly as possible, following him down the hall and the stairs.]

[He stops in the media room, and John does too. There, he decides to speak up.]

David?

Re: Floor 28

[tortileghostwriter]

[He looks up from his work, visibly startled for a moment. He glances back at the synthesizer setup, continuing as he answers.]

John.

Blue is hardly your color, you realize.

[Best to try to keep up appearances, if nothing else.]

[windykind]

Yeah, but I'm used to it.

[He shrugs awkwardly.]

Um... David, are you feeling alright?

[tortileghostwriter]

[he seems to stop for a moment, before throwing another switch and continuing.]

... Of course. Should I not be? Really now, John, I'm not sure what to make of a question like that. Do explain how you mean.

[windykind]

You were talking to yourself on the way up. Nearly screaming, in some parts.

[Well... he is a Lalonde...]

...Tell me the truth this time. Are you okay?

[tortileghostwriter]

[he doesn't look up. there's another beat before he answers.]

... I suppose that would be how it looked to others, wouldn't it...

Regardless. It's nothing that I'm incapable of handling on my own.

[windykind]

...David, let me tell you something.

In my world, I don't have you, David. I have Dave Strider and Rose Lalonde. Both of them always insist they've got things covered, but... they never do.

Enough terrible things happen in this tower, okay? I don't want you bringing more on yourself.

[tortileghostwriter]

... gods, Rose's father barely changed you at all. I shudder to think of what my mother's parental style did to the poor girl...

[I'm your mother.

he already knows all of the things that John is saying, and what he's taking false wonder at. he remembers them. John's presence and the people they're mentioning seem to have pushed Yggdrasil to talk up a storm again, however. he shakes his head, only a half-facetious gesture. almost trying to deflect this topic.]

Between the game-- [he almost spits the word, utter vituperation and a touch of despair dripping off of it] -- and the tower, I do believe I'm rather set where problems are concerned. A pile of frankly Jupiterian magnitude, and all for me. A Von Neumann assortment of anguish! Self-replicating and self-perpetuating for no other purpose than to make things difficult--my, rather like the game itself.

I might even venture that it quite possibly is fucking Jupiter, it certainly couldn't make the damned mess any more absurd than it already is.

But it's my burden. Mine alone.

[knightime]

[It looks like both incarnations of Dave got hit pretty hard. Dave doesn't have Yggdrasil to make it worst though.

He floated into the music room but stopped at the door. Mostly because he wasn't sure if he wanted to really talk with people. Mostly because he was pretty sure David was in as a shitty emotional as himself. And he's not sure he can really deal with that.]

Oh. [Wow, that was eloquent. The most eloquent even. God damn.] I guess I can come back later since you got that shit covered.

[tortileghostwriter]

[that was almost an understatement.

He's in a state at least as bad as Dave's, regardless. Like his red counterpart, he tried to hide it--badly.

David glances up, still working at the synths.]

No, by all means, Strider. I'm rather curious to see you lay down a beat.

[windykind]

[If rolling one's eyes could make a noise, John would at present be drowning out a lawnmower.] It doesn't have to be your burden, David. You just said that it's massive, whatever it is [because it was obviously not the after-effects of the game or the Tower's influence that caused him to babble grimdark words] -- so why are you trying to carry it all by yourself? You know, I wouldn't mind at all sharing it with you. Even though you're not the Dave I'm used to, you're still my friend, and friends help friends.

[knightime]

[At least they have a mutual agreement to trying to not ask each other what's up with the other.

It's like the worst landmine to step on.]

I can most graciously lay down some sick beats for you. No charge even. [Kind of..smiles? In that things-are-shitty-but-we're-pretending-it's-not way.]

[caliginous]

You're cowering, Lalonde.

[Karkat stands in the doorway, arms folded, eyes strangely focused on David -- no doubt reading straight to the core of his feelings, as if it wasn't already obvious to him. Fickle heroes of heart and all.

Its a safe bet that he can't hear the plant wench speaking to David, or his shit would have been considerably more flipped. In truth, he wasn't all that interested in what had him so spooked, but the bassline had attracted his attention.

So here he was, trying to justify his appearance. Karkat wasn't without his own mental scars, but it was getting harder and harder to take anything in the Tower seriously anymore.]

[restitchtime]

[Rose almost pauses when she reaches the doorway and finds someone she knows occupied with the room already. the labyrinth and its aftermath had kind of set her more on edge than before (if that was possible) and she could only imagine what it was like for someone actually in there.

but then, she was Rose Strider. she didn't have to walk on eggshells for anybody or particularly care about their feelings. antagonistic bitch, right? and this was an open room, so she could damn well go in there and screech in her violin all she wanted to.

and so the almost pause became nothing more than a brief slowing of her pace as she strides into the room and flops onto the floor, leaning against a piano as she pulls her violin from her sylladex and begins tuning it up.

lights flash on the instrument as she twists dials and strings, deliberately not turning to look at David. eventually she does speak, muttering something just loud enough for him to catch, although the words seem to be half to herself anyway.]

Hope you can roll with the punches.

[tortileghostwriter]

[he'd contest this, but as singleminded and irritating as Karkat could be, he was just too damn perspicacious when it came to things like this. David puts the synths to rest for a moment, glancing over.]

And what business is it of yours, Vantas?

[no venom or barbs hidden there, just...mild exasperation.]

[tortileghostwriter]

[it's hardly like it needs to be asked, as far as they know.]

Then proceed! Show me what you're capable of. [It's not mirrored, but he does manage a smirk.]

[tortileghostwriter]

The thought is appreciated, Egbert, but what currently plagues me is something that no one can help me with.

[almost icily.]

[tortileghostwriter]

[David glances over, but continues working. He's not expecting any sympathy or tact from Rose, but he hardly intends to bring it up to begin with. It balances out, more or less. When she offers that challenge, however, he can't help but smirk and offer a little wry laugh--competition's always how it goes, isn't it?]

If you can keep up to begin with.

[caliginous]

Whatever business I want it to be. When did you start to stoop to asking stupid questions?

[He pushes himself off the doorframe to walk deeper into the room, arms remaining folded. Hidden from view, he casually rolls a teal colored marble between his fingers in thought.]

[tortileghostwriter]

By your metric? Around any time others begin prying into my affairs, I would imagine.

[pointedly looking down at the synths, now. he may or may not have pointlessly fiddled with those same two equalizers about three times in the past minute.]

[caliginous]

You ain't exactly making it difficult for me, are you? The only affair you're having is with those two levers.

[His eightfold eye twitches. He has half a mind to try and knock him out to put a stop to the obsessive motion, but he doesn't. This is keeping his mind off of all the shit that happened, like it or not.]

[windykind]

...Then the least you can do is tell me what's happened.

[restitchtime]

[that prompts her to finally look over, expression twisted up into something unbelievably dry. the imperceptible eyeroll is readily apparent in her tone.]

You say that as if you're ever going to catch up at all.

[and just like that she snaps back to her violin and begins playing, rocketing off to slice through the beat whether he wanted the sound there or not. game on.]

[fracta_anima]

[Minami's been learning to play the harp and could usually be found in the music room every afternoon practicing. So it's no surprise she's heading up there with a book of sheet music she'd snagged from the media level.

But when she gets up there someone is already playing some sick beats. There's a few sour notes here and there that make her wince, but the boy in purple keeps playing and once there's a lull in those beats she speaks up.]

Hey, that's really good. Except for, uh, you know--[The mistakes.]

[syncingdoll]

<sub>[Now this is interesting music. She's never seen anyone playing at instruments that weren't utterly traditional, classic ones - and David's busywork looks less like playing an instrument, and more like keeping a mad array of machinery in a strange sort of order, that only has music as a byproduct. The messups don't register to her at all, even though she has heard similar tunes in the vein before - the performance of it is just too distracting.

The orchestrator's slight tremble merely accentuates the show of it. She wonders if it's intentional, if he's pushing himself to past normal practice and into weariness, or if it's something else entirely.</sub>