[CLOSED/OPEN] No words can heal a broken heart

[chronomancer]

Characters: [AU1] Eridan Ampora & [AU1] Equius Zahhak; Eridan Ampora and YOU.
Setting: Meadow floor (closed/backdated to the January event), Floor 64 (open/current)
Format: Starting with action but I'll match you.
Summary: Two logs for the price of one, lmao so I don't flood the comm: closing up aged up shenanigans, Equius is displeased and Eridan is about to learn just how much. Also back in real time, Eridan finds a deliciously tempting slice of home.
Warnings: Violence and swearing for the Equius log. Eridan being actually honest and pathetic and stupid, for the open one.

[Closed: Meadow floor.]

[He wasn't tired so much as he was trying to hibernate. He wasn't entirely sure trolls, undead or otherwise, actually did the whole hibernation shtick, but he could at least try. Save up his energy. Make his last feeding last. He was pretty sure things didn't really work that way but he was lazy and this was a good enough excuse. So there he is, as long as he is, lying on his back and sunbathing in the meadow without a care in the world.

Not that he didn't have cares. He had a lot of them, actually. But if he started thinking about all of them he'd probably implode. Or go on a rampage. Or both. Really, it was for the best of everyone involved, if he just laid there, soaking up sunlight and carefully thinking of nothing in particular.]

[Open: Desert floor.]

[It's so familiar it hurts, really. The heat, the sand, the occasional blast of wind. It's probably a bad idea to head out, and given the last few terrible ideas he's indulged lately, mostly as a result of the experiment last month, Eridan resists the urge to go.

But he wants to, dear god, he wants to so bad.

He's curled up on the sandy floor, barely two steps off the staircase, staring aimlessly at the distance and quietly drowning in nostalgia. He's never really stopped to sit down and miss life before the Game... but now he does and the wave of homesickness is almost entirely too much to handle.]

Comments

[caliginous]

[Karkat can't stop from sporfling.]

Dunno Ampora, are you into exotic species?

[chronomancer]

Dunno, but I am suddenly feeling very into shoving fistfuls of sand up your nook.

[Don't mind him if he kind of fingers the sand a bit thoughtfully here.]

[caliginous]

[Karkat wisely ceases leaning his knee against Eridan's back and takes a step to the side. He's still sporfling as he moves, biting his tongue to try and stop himself.]

Sick bastard. Watch it, you'll make her jealous.

[chronomancer]

[Eridan looks over his shoulder up at Karkat, just so he can see him roll his eyes.]

Hysterical, Kar, fucking dying here.

[caliginous]

[Once he relaxes his chuckles, Karkat gives him a look and a small roll of his own eyes.]

Did someone stuff a fistful of sand in your nook? Ligthen up.

[Please. Everything is awkward enough with everyone else, he doesn't say.]

[chronomancer]

[Eridan considers his answer.]

...nah, just put all my rants about future me into perspective.

[Shudder.]

[caliginous]

[To that, Karkat can't say much. Thought future-Karkat hadn't been a complete surprise, it was still unsettling. He seemed to be taking it better than most of the inhabitants. Maybe it was a sign that he had been here too long.]

Shit changes. Last I checked, we were all slated to be dead in the future.

[He adjusts his blazer uncomfortably, cracking his neck in the process.]

No point in thinking about it.

[chronomancer]

...I suppose you're right.

[There's a pause and then he sighs.]

Then again, you tend to be. It's very infuriating.

[Take the fucking olive branch, asshole.]

[caliginous]

[That admission causes him to turn and stare at Eridan a little suspiciously, trying to figure out if he was hearing things or if the other troll was messing with him.]

Yeah. Well.

[Awkward. When was the last time someone actually admitted that? He runs a hand through his hair and looks away, messaging the tips of his nubs.]

Ok.

[chronomancer]

[Eridan snorts a very short laugh and rubs his face with a hand.]

You're welcome.

[caliginous]

[Karkat snorts as well, though more out of indignation than anything else.]

Tch.

[Eventually his arms would fall back to a fold.]

Whatever. It ain't always a trip, being right all the time.

[chronomancer]

Considering the shit you're usually right about? Yeah, I guess it's not.

[There's a small pause.]

You're still a bulge-sucking son of a bitch, though.

[caliginous]

And you're still a sandmunching spineless nooklicker.

[Karkat pompously flips his bangs aside with one hand]

[chronomancer]

[Eridan snorts.]

Well, the fucking sand won't munch itself.

[Nor will the nooks lick themselves, he doesn't add. Because he's being polite. Honest.]

[caliginous]

So are you munching it or fisting it, make up your fuckin' pan already.

[The little voice in the back of his head is telling him to quit now, but the flash of his fangs suggests otherwise. Gotta have that last word.]

[chronomancer]

I'm a versatile troll.

[Eridan's mock prim voice is a terrible idea and he knows it. He gives Karkat an almost demure look.]

So I don't have a problem switching as necessary.

[caliginous]

[Terrible idea is right. Rather than answer verbally, Karkat reaches down and pushes at Eridan's face to chastise him for his tone. He won't look down when he does it -- he can feel that fake look he's giving him.

It makes his skin crawl.]

Of course you are.

[chronomancer]

[Eridan lets Karkat push at him, before he reaches out for a leg, trying half-heartedly to topple the cerulean on top of him.]

You make it sound like it's a bad thing.

[caliginous]

[Karkat blinks and glances down at Eridan, hands still stuffed in his pockets. He leans a little to ensure he doesn't go over without a good tug.]

I don't make it sound like anything.

[chronomancer]

You make everything sound like a bad thing.

[Eridan chuckles, and then tugs a little harder, more like teasing and less like actual aggression. He just wants to give you a faceful of sand, Karkat, is that so wrong.]

[caliginous]

Well, if I'm always right, then--

[Karkat starts to lose his balance and catches himself by flailing one arm. Eridan is rewarded by a shift of the cerulean's posture, so that his foot lodges itself firmly between the other troll's legs for his trouble.]

--maybe everything is a bad idea.

[chronomancer]

[Eridan grunts lowly at that, shifting and clutching at Karkat's thighs on reflex. This is in no way a suggestive posture at all. Of course not.]

I'm trying to avoid bad ideas.

[Except he's sinking his claws into Karkat's thighs, though not yet hard enough to pass through cloth and score on skin.]

[caliginous]

[Well, this was certainly not a situation Karkat had expected to find himself in today. It would have been easy to take advantage of, but instead he opts to just stare, shoulders tight.]

You have a neon sign painted across your face attracting bad ideas.

[He doesn't kick him again, nor does he pull his hands from his pockets, which had balled into fists. He just keeps his posture as straight as possible, waiting for Eridan to realize that he's clinging to his leg.

He's also keeping a close watch on that mouth of his, because he doesn't trust him.]

[chronomancer]

[Eridan is very much aware of what he's clinging to, except he's not sure how to proceed from here. The lack of added aggression only makes it worse, as he's not willing to be the one that escalates things. He's done being the one that causes everything to escalate and spin out of control. Except Karkat isn't really giving him a lead to follow right now. So he holds on, baring his teeth and looking up at the cerulean.]

Pay much attention to my face, hon?

[caliginous]

Enough to know I'd go blind if I bothered to look for too long.

[When he realizes Eridan isn't letting go, in addition to baring those fangs of his, he shakes his leg a little -- as if he were trying to kick off an annoying dog.]

Not to mention I'll have to make an extra laundry run, now that you've rub yourself all over my leg.