gAmZeE MaKaRa ♑ terminallyCapricious (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hystericull) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-02-19 10:27 pm
hystericull) wrote in towerofanimus2013-02-19 10:27 pm
013 ♑ [thirteenth honk]
Characters: Gamzee Makara and YOU!
Setting: Floor 87 (Poppy Field) and Floor 80 (Circus).
Format: Action.
Summary: On floor eighty-seven, Gamzee has a rendezvous with a pair of severed legs. Feel free to interrupt his awkward date with them - he needs all the support he can get trying to end their tryst. On floor eighty, he flips his fucking shit about the addition of the circus. Come fucking party, you know you want to. You'll probably be treated to candy and a show for your time.
Warnings: Gamzee is his own warning. Also bloody legs.
Floor 87
[Gamzee looked a little neater than usual, stepping cautiously through the poppy field. He'd actually never been up here before, but he felt like it would be the best place to get this over with. It was a sedating floor, and he was feeling a little more relaxed, carrying something quite heavy in both of his arms.
[He was moving slow enough to be easy to catch him. In a place where the grass didn't grow quite as tall, he crouched down, settling the large object in his lap. If you approached, you'd be able to hear him speaking to it.]
...ain't been much fuckin' available to you as of motherfucking lateness...
[His tone was apologetic, and the few poppies he'd managed to pick were placed in the... pocket... of the object...]
...good enough reason for it, to all be at perfectly mother fuckin' real with your ass...
[It was a pair of severed legs, sawed off at the waist. Brownish, coppery blood congealed at and stained most of the upper half, while the still-frozen pants clung to their mottled skin. Gamzee continued pushing the flowers into the pockets, through the belt loops - anywhere he could find - as some sort of romantic gesture???]
...things have just... I dunno. Been up and getting all kinds of harsh on the redness front, you feel me? I'm all to be motherfuckin' meaning, with the you what's got the top half all connected still. I ain't no brother to get his judge on of what part's being all missing from fuckin' where, but I got it all shoved in my pan now what carryin' on two of these motherfuckin' dealings ain't some noise what be fucking proper, or some shit like that. You know?
[Running his hand down the side of one of the thighs, he let out a long-suffering sigh. Was he... breaking up with a pair of severed legs!?]
[Yes. He was. Feel free to lend him some advice, because he really doesn't know how to deal with anything like this.]
Floor 80
[His fucking everything. Never before has Gamzee Makara been so ecstatic to the point where the several bottles of Faygo he had dumped over himself in religious fervor were completely forgotten in a moment's time. Maybe the Tower had been so generous as to grace him with the faithtents he so direly needed. Maybe the administrators endeavored to rekindle the diminished flame of his piety with flashing colors and cracking whips.]
[If you happened to find yourself on floor eighty, you'd find a completely blissful teenage alien, up to his horns in spirituality, rejoicing with trembling and shoving handfuls of popcorn in his mouth as he did so.]
[Sugar-sticky shoes crunching and squeaking against the ground as he walked, Gamzee meandered through the rings of the circus, dazedly watching the different acts in a blitzed-out stupor. His arms were full of snacks, and his mouth and eyes were wide with awe. It was almost touching, really, how such a belligerent fool could be so easily turned docile by such a childish scene. Of course, this was no mere excursion for him - it was his religion.]
Setting: Floor 87 (Poppy Field) and Floor 80 (Circus).
Format: Action.
Summary: On floor eighty-seven, Gamzee has a rendezvous with a pair of severed legs. Feel free to interrupt his awkward date with them - he needs all the support he can get trying to end their tryst. On floor eighty, he flips his fucking shit about the addition of the circus. Come fucking party, you know you want to. You'll probably be treated to candy and a show for your time.
Warnings: Gamzee is his own warning. Also bloody legs.
[Gamzee looked a little neater than usual, stepping cautiously through the poppy field. He'd actually never been up here before, but he felt like it would be the best place to get this over with. It was a sedating floor, and he was feeling a little more relaxed, carrying something quite heavy in both of his arms.
[He was moving slow enough to be easy to catch him. In a place where the grass didn't grow quite as tall, he crouched down, settling the large object in his lap. If you approached, you'd be able to hear him speaking to it.]
...ain't been much fuckin' available to you as of motherfucking lateness...
[His tone was apologetic, and the few poppies he'd managed to pick were placed in the... pocket... of the object...]
...good enough reason for it, to all be at perfectly mother fuckin' real with your ass...
[It was a pair of severed legs, sawed off at the waist. Brownish, coppery blood congealed at and stained most of the upper half, while the still-frozen pants clung to their mottled skin. Gamzee continued pushing the flowers into the pockets, through the belt loops - anywhere he could find - as some sort of romantic gesture???]
...things have just... I dunno. Been up and getting all kinds of harsh on the redness front, you feel me? I'm all to be motherfuckin' meaning, with the you what's got the top half all connected still. I ain't no brother to get his judge on of what part's being all missing from fuckin' where, but I got it all shoved in my pan now what carryin' on two of these motherfuckin' dealings ain't some noise what be fucking proper, or some shit like that. You know?
[Running his hand down the side of one of the thighs, he let out a long-suffering sigh. Was he... breaking up with a pair of severed legs!?]
[Yes. He was. Feel free to lend him some advice, because he really doesn't know how to deal with anything like this.]
[His fucking everything. Never before has Gamzee Makara been so ecstatic to the point where the several bottles of Faygo he had dumped over himself in religious fervor were completely forgotten in a moment's time. Maybe the Tower had been so generous as to grace him with the faithtents he so direly needed. Maybe the administrators endeavored to rekindle the diminished flame of his piety with flashing colors and cracking whips.]
[If you happened to find yourself on floor eighty, you'd find a completely blissful teenage alien, up to his horns in spirituality, rejoicing with trembling and shoving handfuls of popcorn in his mouth as he did so.]
[Sugar-sticky shoes crunching and squeaking against the ground as he walked, Gamzee meandered through the rings of the circus, dazedly watching the different acts in a blitzed-out stupor. His arms were full of snacks, and his mouth and eyes were wide with awe. It was almost touching, really, how such a belligerent fool could be so easily turned docile by such a childish scene. Of course, this was no mere excursion for him - it was his religion.]
no subject
[Gamzee folded his arms across his chest, honking a bit in disapproval.]
Didn't motherfuckin' go at so damn well last fucking time.
[He didn't really want to think about it - confronting Jason in the dregs of the Tower. It made him feel so... powerless.]
no subject
Anyway, we're still here, which means we still have more opportunities for next times and success. If you fall, all you MUST do is get up and try again! Never just lay down and surrender...
no subject
[This, apparently, was a language. Or... not? Either way, Gamzee looked far more excited than he had previously. The honks seemed to cheer him up, and the fact that Veigar was participating made it even more exciting.]
Mmmhm...
[In another abrupt turn of emotions, Gamzee sucked in a breath. He knew he should be plotting his escape from this paranormal deathtrap, but... his time here was more eventful than all of his time back home, save for maybe Sgrub. A lot of his life was just waiting. Waiting at home, waiting to die in the Veil, waiting, waiting, waiting. Gamzee was good at waiting, but he never thought he'd have such a turbulent life as he'd had during his stay here. He'd lost a lot of things, but he'd gained even greater things.]
[To tell the truth, he knew he needed to get out of here, but...]
A brother can up and get his most mirthfully maniacal of motherfuckin' bludgeonings on, and it ain't all never makin' his pan no clearer after all what noise be motherfuckin' said out and all done.
Guess that all just fuckin' be meaning at what he ain't supposed to stop and think on nothin', right?
[What the fuck was he doing asking this motherfucker? Ugh, God, he was going soft in the head again. Damn drugs. Why the fuck did he have to go and fall off the wagon!?]
no subject
Eventually he looked up and grinned.]
Instincts my dear minion... instincts are what give us the guidance we sometimes fail to reach on our own. There will be times when one must think before they leap, but other times? Other times the jump into the unknown IS the pleasure.
With what you've shown today, I think you're more than capable of besting many difficulties along the path but not all. But, that's what master's and allies are for are they not?
no subject
[Even though he was the one that had asked for the help, Gamzee did not take well to being told what to do. It used to be all he knew, but now it just fizzles his already-short fuse.]
[Despite this, he didn't seem to be too angry, just stubborn. Like a defiant child, he folded his arms across his chest.]
This motherfucker kills all for fuckin' pleasure and profit. Though I ain't all accountable for not doin' the shit when all it would benefit my motherfuckin' self on matters what be much more probably important.
But I ain't dumb enough to fuckin' charge my ass up all back in against a bitch what I just got all to being motherfuckin' served by.
[He makes an unpleasant face. Admitting defeat was the last thing on his list of enjoyable activities, and it left a bad taste in his mouth.]
The machines be the fuckin' problem. And the mother fucking magic. Fuckin' nerf the shit out of a brother all before he can even get up to be knowin' what the fuck happened to him.
no subject
[Veigar hissed in annoyance, clenching his fist before turning away.]
Ah, yes... those infernal machines. Worry not, they'll have their day when the machines will cease and we'll have our chance at their throats...
no subject
[He relaxed a bit, rolling his shoulders back and straightening up.]
One of them experiments be the thing what was all finally up to gettin' me at being to realize fuckin' just what sorts of carnage I all could up and tear the fuck open on.
no subject
[Veigar would know that lesson all too well. He remained silent as his eyes glowed brighter for a moment before he simply turned.]
I believe I have some matters to attend to. Mayhaps we can continue this some other time minion.
If you require any assistance, just call for me.
no subject
Such things like all motherfuckin' that won't be necessary.
no subject