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
[He waggled his fingers as he thought of an explanation.]
No colors.
no subject