[Open] If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman...?

[chronomancer]

Characters: Eridan and YOU!
Setting: Room 1-10, showers, cafeteria, anywhere you want.
Format: Starting with Action, I'll match you.
Summary: Eridan finds himself back in the Tower after an extended absence. This wouldn't be so bad if he weren't currently very much shithive maggots and trying desperately to keep a lid on it. Please excuse the jumpy, nervous wreck, he swears he's trying not to murder anyone.
Warnings: Eridan's erratic behavior, lots of F-clusterbombs and potential murder if startled too hard.

Room 1-10

[The elusive fourth inhabitant of the room is finally back! You can tell because there's a person-shaped lump under the covers of his bed and a quiet chant of "oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck" echoing from the depths. Eridan is back, and this would be amazing if it weren't for the fact he's going through a slow-mo murderous meltdown.

Goddammit, Tower, he was almost done murdering himself!

Approach with caution. Or don't! Hilarity will ensue, since he doesn't have a weapon at hand. Yet.]

Bathroom.

[He looks disgusting. He kind of feels disgusting, too. After escaping his room with most of his sanity intact, Eridan sneaked about to get some necessary supplies and went about making himself vaguely presentable. That's why he's freshly showered - so freshly showered, his clothes are sticking to him since he's pretty dampstill - and trying his best to trim his hair into an acceptable length again. Also trying to salvage his claws with a file. They're kind of brittle and splintered, but at least they're not caked in jade blood anymore. That's always a plus.

Ignore the gun and the shovel within arms reach, someone is extremely jumpy right now.]

Cafeteria.

[Having made sure he doesn't look like a hobo - just mostly half starved and twitchy like a chihuahua after a close experience with NY traffic - Eridan gives in to the fact his insides are halfway through digesting themselves and inches his way into the cafeteria. He's trying really hard to go unnoticed, head tucked between his shoulders and eyes avoiding most people. Definitely not the most inviting of postures, but he can't help it. He's seated in a corner, all by himself, and spending as much time eating as he's looking nervously around the room. Without the sunglasses you can really see how jittery the eye movement really is.

Again, please ignore the shovel and the gun within easy reach, it's not like he's gonna shoot anyone or anything.

Hahaha.

...oh god.]

Anywhere.

[After a good meal, Eridan considers sneaking back to his room and hiding away until the circus in his head is over. On the other hand, he should really check out if there have been any changes in the tower - of course they've been, there always are - and maybe he'll be lucky enough to not run into anyone while he makes his way up the stairs.

That's totally a thing that'd happen, right?

...right?

Oh god, he's gonna get killed. Or worse.]

Comments

[hystericull]

[Sorry, were you hoping for a fight? Now that he has you all riled up, Eridan, Gamzee's going to submit himself to the calming sedative that is hidden behind the fugly scar on his throbbing forehead. His face twitches, his eyes flick back and forth, eventually settling on the bloody jade stump he'd just assaulted. Still there. He was still there.]

[He didn't say anything more, not yet. Instead, he tried mocking the growl that was given to him, although his attempt was feeble at best. What a fearsome warrior Gamzee had become. If he wasn't so calmed down right now, it would make him sick.]

1/???

[chronomancer]

I'm going to--

[chronomancer]

[No, no, no, this isn't how it works.]

[chronomancer]

[This isn't how it works.]

[chronomancer]

[Calm down, chill out, it's okay. It's just Gamzee.]

[chronomancer]

[Who might or might not have broken your jaw just now--]

[chronomancer]

[AND THAT'S WHY WE'RE GONNA STRANGLE HIM WITH HIS OWN FUCKING INTEST---]

[chronomancer]

[Okay, no.]

[chronomancer]

[Deep breaths.]

[chronomancer]

[No murderous rages.]

[chronomancer]

[No maiming either.]

[chronomancer]

[Just... chilling out. Not hurting anyone.]

[chronomancer]

[NOT EVEN FUCKING CLOWNS WITH A DEATH WISH.]

[chronomancer]

[Especially not clowns. We actually like clowns a lot!]

[chronomancer]

[A whole lot, really. That's how much we like the clown. We're the ones who're always down with the clown.]

[chronomancer]

[So no killing the clown.]

[chronomancer]

[Even if the fucking nooklicking, bulgesucking bitch broke our jaw.]

[chronomancer]

[We probably deserved it, anyway.]

DONE.

[chronomancer]

[We always do.]

...sorry.

[hystericull]

[He's spent. Gamzee stares ahead of him for a long time, gaze focusing and unfocusing on Eridan, waiting for him to disappear, waiting for this to be a dream, or a drunken stupor, or a sopor hallucination. It's happened before, it could easily happen again.]

[However, the boy doesn't fade with time, or with eye-rubbings, or with prods of Gamzee's foot. For the apology, Eridan gets a nice wad of spit spat right at him. If he has to hear that word again, he'll try to work up another fury. No promises on the potency of it, though.]

[It was almost comical how long Gamzee was staring wordlessly. He didn't really have any words to say, really. He'd never really thought about it. He honestly didn't think Eridan would come back this time, even though he hadn't found a grave for him in the graveyard like he had Karkat.]

Heard that shit before.

[chronomancer]

[For a moment, it's almost like he's going to fly off the handle again, but the reaction is more muted this time. Faster to flinch, Eridan sort of slumps down against the wall, folding up his limbs into a neat ball and just absently rubbing the spit off his face.]

...yeah.

[hystericull]

[Gamzee wants to stare a hole in the middle of Eridan's head until a sign comes out with directions on what to do. He should probably talk. About things. About things Eridan has missed, about how he's been missed. But, fuck that shit. Gamzee was never one for talking about things with substance.]

[Instead, he folded his arms over his bent knees, gaze drifting to the side.]

If this whole charade all fuckin' ain't me bein' shit-face drunk, it gotta be the most motherfucking piss-poor reunion I all ever fucking was up to be at witnessing, I gotta motherfuckin' say.

[chronomancer]

...well you could have not punched me.

[Eridan offers a crooked, sheepish smile.]

'cause that sucked.

[He raised a hand to rub at his jaw and his mouth.]

I mean--

[Eridan trailed off, eyes widening as he held his mouth shut.]

[chronomancer]

[There was a long, awkward pause, and then Eridan spat to the side.]

...son of a fucking bitch, I'm going to kill you.

[Wrapped in equal amounts of spit and blood was a pearly white, terribly crooked fang.]

[hystericull]

[Oh, for fuck's sake. Always with the cosmetic trivialities, this one. Gamzee rolled his eyes. He almost wanted to grin. Almost. Instead, the unimpressed scowl stayed firmly on his face as he reached up to fetch his fangbrush from the sink's basin.]

Yeah, yeah, motherfuckin' here. All better.

[The brush skittered across the floor, smearing fangpaste in its wake until it landed next to Eridan's shoe. What exactly it was meant to accomplish was beyond anyone, but that was basically because Gamzee didn't really know the full uses of a toothbrush to begin with.]