Eridan Ampora ♒ chronicAugustus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chronomancer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-05-21 11:30 pm
chronomancer) wrote in towerofanimus2013-05-21 11:30 pm
Entry tags:
[Open] If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman...?
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.]
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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
...yeah.
no subject
[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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
...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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
[Eridan offered Gamzee a preview of what his uneven snarling was gonna look like for a while. It was bloodied and gross, as the tooth had been loosen and fallen off in one piece.]
I'm gonna get a fucking lisp.
[Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.]
no subject
[He wanted to laugh, wanted to make fun of Eridan for being a whiny bitch and tell him to suck it up and shove that broken fang of his straight up his barren, deserted nook. He just felt so listless, though. He needed to... he needed to process. Process this. When something was too overwhelming, he went to process.]
[Stamping out the jitters in his hands, Gamzee reached up to get a grip on the edge of the sink.]
I gotta go.
no subject
...why?
[He squinted suspiciously up at Gamzee. Mostly because who knew what could happen? The suspicion at least did something good, it deflated and took away most of his anger. In his current state of mind, he was kind of confined to a single emotion at the time, and the changes from one to another were awkward and stilted.]
no subject
[He hoisted himself all the way to his feet, throwing his arms forward in exasperation as he stared at the crumpled Eridan on the ground.]
'Cause I motherfuckin' just...! And you...! And...!
[He growled loudly, picking up the tube of fangpaste from the sink and chucking it at the wall. Nothing like a good hormonal outburst to liven things up.]
I'm too mother fucking slime-for-slugs up in the fuckin' noggin to be contemplating at just what I be all even up and being supposed to do with... THIS--
[Gamzee waved his hands around in front of him, gesturing to Eridan's entirety, and the whole situation in general.]
So I'm thinkin' a motherfucker's gonna all do what he do fuckin' best and abscond the fuck outta here so I ain't gotta deal with you or none of you motherfuckin' fancy time-travel disappear-y hoofbeastshit or whatever the fuck it is!