007 ♑ [seventh honk]

[hystericull]

Characters: [OU] Gamzee Makara and you.
Setting: Floor 11
Format: Starting with action, but I'll match.
Summary: After going fucking nuts and slaughtering a few things, Gamzee has been pretty good about keeping himself out of trouble. With an ankle almost back to normal, he's checking out the wicked eleventh floor and trying to forget that his life sucks while simultaneously freezing his ass off.
Warnings: If the summary wasn't clue enough, profanity. Also other things idk it's Gamzee, come on.



[It was in these kinds of moments that Gamzee had been particularly grateful for his new duds. Kanaya, before departing the Tower, had presented him with a very generous new wardrobe - one better suited for the rapidly falling temperatures.]

[For being in the Tower for a length of time fast approaching nine months, Gamzee hadn't a single change of clothes up until now. As horrifying and possibly disgusting as it was, he still hadn't the mind to change out of them. Rather, he threw the jacket, hat and scarf on right over his marred shirt and dirty hair. Hygiene really wasn't at the top of his list of priorities.]

[What was at the top of that list, however, was inspecting the spray of the water that spilled from the ceiling of this level, and the many rainbows that bent and danced around him as a result. With a limp that refused to abandon his right foot after weeks and weeks of healing its broken ankle, the boy watched with bright, droopy eyes the colorful bands that spanned before them. An awed grin was in its early stages at the corners of his lips, dimpling his now-purple cheeks and leaving him with a slightly slack-jawed look of amusement that made it possible for a few puffs of visible breath to escape.]

Comments

[hystericull]

[Gamzee nods sagely, lifting a hand up to pinch the skin of the Otherzee's cheek between two long, spindly fingers. He squished it almost gently, deliberately, as if checking a fruit for freshness. He held only the most serious and concentrated expression on his face before finally speaking again.]

Yeah? The fuckin' whole pink outfit not all so much at being thick as what the motherfuckin' graysuit be?

[thereisnopie]

[It's the weirdest feeling in the world, having what could rightfully be your mirror image reaching out and taking hold of you. It's weirder still because Gamzee knows he's the only one that sees it this way. As similar as they are, the troll is the image they both know the best, and his counterpart is just peering over something familiar yet foreign.

To him it's like looking at his shadow all over again.

A rather smelly, pink-haired version of his shadow.

He's a little grateful for those differences now that he thinks about it. They allow him to separate himself from what would otherwise be an exact duplicate of the machine's image.]

Maybe just not made in as much of the firmer fuckin' material, dig? Like comparing a mother fucking paper cup to a proper bottle.

[hystericull]

[He chuckles at that, releasing the boy's cheek and moving on to lift up one of his arms, inspecting the joints, the fleshy hand, and the clear little nails at the end of each of his fingers. It's not like he's never seen a human before, but he's never really paid close attention to the way they were built. Suddenly, when it's the idea of some version of himself in the human suit, the little details of it become much more apparent.]

All the more fuckin' reason why you all gotta be having this hide on your back 'stead of motherfucking mine.

[His stance on this abomination before him changed with every hour of the day. On the slime, he could deal with it. Maybe even succumb to the gnawing curiosity. When he was agitated, all he wanted to do was choke the little shit and get it out of his life.]

[Now was a more docile moment. He stared, sort of slack-jawed, now, still holding Gamzee's forearm in his hand.]

So, like...

[...]

How can you be fuckin' me, when I'm already motherfucking being him?

[thereisnopie]

[He would love to take the coat, if it didn't smell like something had died in it.

Meanwhile, he's being inspected as though he's more object than boy, and his feelings on the matter are conflicted. On the one hand, this is his mirror self, and denying him anything would, in a sense, be like denying a part of himself. On the other hand, this was a part of himself that shouldn't rightfully exist. His grip on what's real and what isn't can be tenuous enough.

The question doesn't help.

But what is he supposed to do? Tell the troll that he's a figment of his imagination come to life? A computer generated image rendered flesh?]

Who's to be sayin' I am you?

[hystericull]

[Gamzee pauses for a second at that, still holding the boy's arm up uselessly.]

...Ain't you?

[In all honesty, he'd only assumed it because, well, fucking look at this kid! Listen to him! Stranger things have happened in the Tower for him to be able to accept this explanation as fact - even if it wasn't hard to get him to accept things as fact before waking up here. To be quite frank, he didn't give a shit whether or not this human boy was the alien-equivalent of him or not. What the hell was it going to change? It was interesting as fuck, and he could definitely get a few giggles out of trying to find the similarities and differences, but in the long run, who the fuck cared?]

No fuckin' skin scraped off this motherfucker's back none if all you get to end up to not be.

[thereisnopie]

Just maybe think of me all like... Maybe a motherfuckin' clone or some all shit. Different body, different pan and all, just lookin' all about the same.

[Even if from his perspective it's easier to call the troll a clone, he's in the minority here and he knows it. He's the only pink-skinned double of a motherfucker, so how could he argue for being the original?]

[hystericull]

Hmm...

[Thinking about it too hard was making his head hurt. He was at the point where he really didn't give any more shits about where this kid came from, or why he even existed. It was much more interesting just to talk to him.]

How 'bout we just all be a motherfuckin' wicked pair of bros instead of thinkin' on which one of our asses all got shat the fuck out from fuckin' where?

[thereisnopie]

...Aight. Bros.

[Just. Don't hug him.

Please.

He hadn't realized how sterile the environment he'd spent most of his life in had actually been until now.]