towerofanimus | (no subject)

Characters: the grand highblood + you
Setting: starts at his dorm, room 2-10. then he'll slowly descend and stop at no lower than floor 13 (cathederal floor).
Format: doesn't matter
Summary: the highblood has awoken and he's not pleased. Or amused. Well, maybe just a little.
Warnings: practice caution around the highblood. he's still pretty on-edge right now and his killing instincts are going haywire so if you're not careful, you might receive a face full of claws. also swearing and bad jokes.

Waking up in a sudden panic, rage and fear coursing through his veins like a shot of adrenaline, isn't really new to the highblood. He's used to sometimes accidentally sleeping outside the sopor, usually alone, grumbling and growling in his sleep. The only difference now is that when his eyes snap open in a blinding red rage, he can't move at all. His limbs are stiff, the sudden jerk of his body rattling the bed with loud creaks and groans.

It takes him a while to calm down after the paralysis wears off, and not even minding the ridiculously skin-tight white outfit he's wearing, he stumbles out of the room to figure out where the motherfucking hell he is.

If you come across him on any of these floors, it's probably best you catch him from afar lest he comes straight at you once he catches sight. Or at least attempts to. Why don't you pick a floor and find out?

[OOC; pick a floor from 1~13 and i will have him react accordingly! ♥]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Gamzee was never a light sleeper. He always woke late, lounged all day, and went to bed whenever the fuck he felt like. This being the norm, it was becoming more and more disconcerting when he found himself waking up early, unable to fall back asleep, even with the assistance of his recuperacoon. His body was warmer than it usually was, and though he might have thought such a sensation would be welcome, it only served to make him uncomfortable.]

[Along with the restlessness and slight fever, Gamzee was developing an even bigger aversion to food and drink. There was a gnawing fear at the edge of his mind that someone was slipping things into his food. What little he did consume was soon forfeited. Even the slime, which was poison to fucking begin with, he didn't trust.]

[This morning, he was standing on the forty-fifth floor, the observatory. High in the clouds, there wasn't much to look at, except for the darkness of winter storms, and the occasional wisp of snow that made its way up.]

[Despite the unnatural warmth, he was still fucking freezing. One minute he'd be in nothing but a t-shirt and pants, the next he'd be picking his winter jacket up off of the floor and wrapping it around himself so tightly he'd look like a mental patient. Body practically pressed against the window, this was one of those times.]

[The cold didn't bother the highblood at first, he's used to cooler weather, and being of cooler hue, his body temperature is pretty low to begin with. But it does start getting to him, feeling his skin prickle from the chill, and by the time he reaches the 45th floor, he swears he's surrounded by snow.

He's only half right, being so high up in the clouds that everything appears white. In mild curiosity, he explores the glass walls, not touching, but just looking. A strange movement or a flash of a face would suddenly appear and he'd blink in surprise, wondering just what exactly this tower was. And what it was for, holding so many prisoners captive.

And almost right after, he notices there's another presence in the room. It's small, but there, and he quickly gives the room a once over. Being so preoccupied with the walls had distracted him, and he makes a mental note to never ever fucking do that again. It's a strange new place, and he has to actually exercise some caution now. Yeah, it's just been that long since he's had to look over his shoulder constantly.

There's a small troll pressed up against a window across the room from him, and he has this strange feeling that there's something disturbingly familiar about this one. He's not even sure why, he can only really see his horns clearly from here, after all.

He doesn't waste any time in approaching him, stone-faced, eyes squinting and glaring down at him. His lips twitch automatically, his once again desire to smite anything vaguely resembling a child rising dangerously. But he doesn't come too close to Gamzee just yet, leaving a good 30 ft gap between them, just close enough to make his presence known.]

[How the fuck can't the Grand Highblood's presence be known? He was the most literal adaptation of "elephant in the room" ever.]

[Gamzee felt him, without moving in the slightest. That looming, heavy sensation that he hadn't been acquainted with in so long. He thought it was over. Thought he'd never have to feel it around him and crawling up in his pan ever again. As with most other things, he was wrong.]

[He was surely not a wiggler anymore, but he clung to the hope that if he didn't turn around, maybe the feeling would go away. Maybe the hulking presence of his ancestor would turn out to be just another trick of the mind brought on by this stupid fever. He pressed his forehead against the window, leaving a smear of paint on the glass as he did so. The cold surface felt wonderful against his scalding skin.]

[Go away, go away, go away.]

[He wasn't going away.]

[This...anxiety. It's not straight up fear, but he recognizes the feeling anyway, and it's a good familiar feeling in a strange new place. The trolls he had come up against were mostly in their adulthood, older, and aware of who he is and what he did for a living. So, to come across a younger troll with the correct response to his presence? Yeah, it's a win.

He steps closer, his pace steady, until he's right behind Gamzee. His shadow looms over him, engulfing him completely, and he crouches a little to curl his upper body above him like a tent as he hisses and chuckles.]

Hey, motherfucker.

[He won't shudder beneath that voice. He won't.]

[In fact, the mere fact that the Highblood has taken pleasure in his discomfort - while not a surprise in the least - was making an unruly anger bubble up through the hot fever in his stomach. He knew what it felt like to feed off someone's fear. He knew how invigorating it was, and he also knew it put the one in fear at an extreme disadvantage.]

[Desperate to wash away the satisfaction his ancestor was probably getting out of his unease, Gamzee tried clearing his mind. What was the worst that could happen, here? He could die. Which, admittedly, was losing its value here in this abysmal Tower. His self-preservation was dropping significantly, but was by no means nonexistent. Even with all of the uncertainties plaguing him, Gamzee breathed out against the window pane, placing the palms of his hands against the glass to ground himself with the shock of the cold.]

Fuck off.

[He can feel the struggle the little troll is putting himself through to calm his fear and discomfort, feeling his mind grow almost numb. How did he know what to do- did he, like some others he's come across so far, know about his existence here before too?

Aside from that, he also wonders what sort of torment this little one has gone through here in this tower- and of course other things of relevance like his blood color, you know, the important stuff.

Then he chuckles lowly, looking over him curiously, still hunched over him.]

Nah. Turn the motherfuck around and face me, resistant little motherfucker.

[All right, this wasn't going to go down any way that didn't involve pain if he kept resisting. He still could do this in a way that didn't make him look like such a pussy. With a final sharp breath in, Gamzee spun on his heel in a rapid about-face.]

[He tried putting on an authoritative expression, hands balled into fists and arms held straight down at his sides. His paint was a little mussed from being sick, but he hadn't failed to apply it this morning, like he did every morning. He hadn't stared his ancestor in the face for what seemed like sweeps, but it couldn't have been that long... could it have?]

Long time no motherfuckin' see on all of a motherfucker.

[The sentence came out as rough as he could manage. He couldn't show any more weakness. He'd dealt with this fucker before. He refused to be pushed around by this giant piece of shit.]

[Aw. He...

Is motherfucking adorable. Look at how strong he's trying to appear, and how...wow, how similar he looks to himself. The face paint, the curling horns, and the messy hair. It's like a spitting image of himself in his wriggler days.

And apparently this little shit had met him before, too. That's starting to get really irritating.

He narrows his eyes at him, teeth bared but in a non-threatening way for the time being.]

Got the motherfucking familiarity on about a brother here, too. You will tell me your name, little motherfucker.

Gamzee.

...Motherfucker.

[He ran his tongue over the front of his fangs, trying, trying, trying to keep eye contact.]

And don't be all motherfucking forgetting that shit, neither!!

[He only pretends to forget, just to be infuriating.]

And just what the motherfuck are you doing all up and huddled near the motherfucking window like a brother without no purpose, Gamzee?

[Gamzee sniffled. A horrible, sloppy, wet noise of mucous and liquid being sucked back up his nostrils.]

The fuck's it to you?

(no subject)

FASHIONABLY LATE TWERKS AGGRESSIVELY also floor 45

wow sexy

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