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

[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?