019 ♑ [nineteenth honk]

[hystericull]

Characters: Gamzee and you.
Setting: Floor 62, Floor 53, Floor 27.
Format: Action.
Summary: A combination of event post and general open log, making up for my hiatus time. Floor 53 will be the setting for the Individuation plot, Floors 62 and 27 will be general settings for non-plot things, forward-dated a little just for convenience's sake. OH AN ACTUAL SUMMARY - Gamzee hears voices and goes crazy, which is pretty run-of-the-mill for him, but this time it's accompanied by shadowy children who don't like him very much. In the other threads, he's being equally disconcerting, however with a noted lack of children.
Warnings: Gamzee. Profanity, general vulgarity.

Floor 53 (Classroom)
[Much like the beach, Gamzee had spent a lot of time vandalizing this floor, as well. Chalk was scattered all over the floor, white hand prints pressed on every surface imaginable. The scrawlings on the board ranged from crude artistic depictions of violence, to repeated profanities, to long lines of text that seemed to have been copied from memory or some sort of literature. These still varied in subject matter. Some of it was written like dialogue; accusatory, harsh and degrading. The language was so brutal and unfeeling, yet it was written in the neatest handwriting (if any of Gamzee's handwriting could actually be considered such.)]

[The dialogue was the words he was hearing from his hauntlings. Some of the children had dissipated after Gamzee had become uninterested in them. However, three of them still stuck around. He did his best to ignore them, but his mindless, unconscious scribbling of their relentless beratements betrayed his efforts, serving only to encourage them. The relationships depicted through the words were pretty discernible, all things considered. One was clearly a parental figure, though these sentences were only half-formed, as if having been translated before being written. The words and phrases here, despite not being complete, were just as ruthless, if not moreso than the others, and the pocks of dust on most of them suggest the chalk had been broken numerous times transcribing them.]

[The other two sections of dialogue were decidedly non-familial in nature. One was platonic, the other romantic, but both seemed to come from very close relationships. One was written exclusively in huge capital letters, belittling chastisement punctuated with "FUCK"s and long, drawn-out metaphors. The other was more serious in nature, almost disappointed, but just as angry.]

[You'd either find Gamzee scribbling away at the chalkboard, wearing down the remainder of his chalk to nubs, or sitting at one of the desks, gouging into the wood with his claws. Whatever he happened to be doing, he was pretty absorbed in it.]


Floor 62 (Beach)
[While this floor had usually been a place of reflection for him, Gamzee has spent most of the day tearing up the beach. Holes were dug everywhere, some filled with water now from the flowing tide. Where there weren't holes, there were deep gouges, claw marks and scratches that ripped across the light, dry sand to reveal the darker grains underneath.]

[He wasn't using any tools, so his hands and clothes were extremely dirty. A few of his long, yellow nails had broken off, not that he'd noticed. Currently, he's working at a particularly deep hole, scratching at the inner walls to carve it wider and painting the sand with the purple blood that had begun to drip from where his skin had broken.]


Floor 27 (Lab)
[For the first time in a while, a large grin was spread across Gamzee's face, long fangs pointing out in awkward directions. Bright light shining through rows of liquid-filled tubes cast multicolored shapes across his cheeks, and although the lights alone would be enough to capture his attention for hours, he found himself much more interested in the liquid itself. Various vials of blood, collected from monsters, fallen tower inhabitants, and two very special samples - bright red and jade green - bubbling in their own tubes next to a beaker of brown, separate from the rest.]

[Gamzee didn't have much patience for learning. The knowledge to operate this equipment was the only thing he could manage to glean from books in the library. Procedures, precautions, and any direction at all, he deemed unnecessary. He was running tests based on a whim, adding catalysts without knowing what could happen. As such, part of his work station had a big, black char across it, and the top part of his shirt collar had been blown off.]

[However, he didn't seem deterred by this, only motivated. He made his rounds, dumping assorted chemicals into the vials before returning to stare at the bubbling Christmas colors with an obsessive fascination.]

Comments

Floor 27

[averytinyparticle]

[Quark wasn't sure he was glad the shadows were gone. After he had died, and then woken up again to find the-thing-that-said-it-was-his-Grandpa had vanished, he had had mixed feelings. On one hand, it was nice to not feel so tired anymore, and to not be followed around by an cynical, judging shadow. On the other...Quark couldn't hear his Grandpa at all anymore. And the things he had said to him were still stuck in his head, making him all sad and gloomy.

But Quark didn't really want to stay sad and gloomy, especially when there wasn't really anything he could do about changing what had happened. So he had gone back to his usual exploring. And that was what led him to the labs. He figured, maybe he'd try to look up science-y things again, since he had been so rudely interrupted last time he tried and ended up never getting around to it. Not the ten-year-old really knew what to do with chemicals; he was really more of an amateur inventor than anything.

Somehow, he didn't expect someone to already be there. When Quark sidles inside, he approaches in a wide circle, as if he's afraid that the occupied table in question was going to explode at any given second. Honestly, it wouldn't take much of a stretch of the imagination.]

What are you making?

[Quark hadn't really meant to interrupt, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He shoves his hands into his pockets as he rocks back on his heels, looking more interested than nervous about the precarious display of chemical handling before him. Not that there isn't still a small trace of visible worry, mind you.]

[hystericull]

[Gamzee was grateful for the mocking voices easing up on him. Honestly, he had enough chitter chatter going on in his head without them nagging him. And what's worse - the shadows had been voices familiar to him. Ignoring them was easier on some days, and more difficult on others. There was no real way to take out his anger on them, either, since they weren't tangible.]

[Never mind all that, though. They were gone, and the voices were gone, and boiling blood and dissecting pieces of scalp and horn were nice ways to distract him from any lingering thoughts of what might have been said.]

[For a long while, Gamzee was too engrossed in his work to notice anyone else lingering around the lab. He was busy separating skin and hair from the troll horns he had laid out before him. He paused for a moment, wiping the blood on to his pants that had transferred from the horns to his fingers while he was working. Only then did his eyes flick up to rest on the boy on the other side of the room.]

...A motherfuckin' mess.

[His lips twisted up in a smile, odd and mischievous, and he set his scalpel down on the table.]

The fuck is it all to you, motherfucker!?

[averytinyparticle]

[Quark blinks, and then smiles sheepishly. He was a little surprised at the profanity--he thought people only used adult words when they were angry, but the purple guy didn't look angry. Just kind of scary. In a way, Quark was a bit thankful that Dio had been beginning to desensitize him to foul language.

Mind you, he knew he wasn't supposed to use them, himself, because he wasn't an adult yet.]

I dunno. [He takes one of his hands out of his pockets to scratch the back of his neck.] I just thought this looked really cool and stuff!

[Dangerous, but cool.]

Is it okay if I watch you work?

[Could making a mess be considered a form of work?]

[hystericull]

[Nah, Gamzee was always angry. Some of the anger levels were just more subdued than the others. It was an art, really. Though, that had no bearing on whether or not he chose to use profanity - that was just a way of life.]

[He was far from an adult, himself. If he would have taken the time out to do the math, he would have placed himself at about 14 or 15 human years. But, he never was the type fascinated with humans and calculations, so he never got around to figuring that out. Chunks of skin and vials of blood were more his speed.]

[In any case, Gamzee regarded the boy with a wary, sinister grin. He thought boiling blood and dissecting severed horns looked cool? There may have been some hope for human youth yet.]

You all be keen on to like watchin' things go motherfuckin' boom?

[He didn't answer his question, but he wasn't kicking him out, either.]

[averytinyparticle]

Yeah! [Quark pauses, then thinks over his initial excitement. He looks particularly thoughtful, as if this was an important point to consider.] Well, kinda. I dunno if I really like explosions.

[Not when he considered the bomb he had found in the Crew Quarters, in the Nonary Game, shortly before he had woken up in the Tower. But, sometimes small explosions were okay, right? Like, when they happened in science experiments? Then it was okay. As long as nobody got hurt.] But I like, you know, learning new things. Science-y things, especially.

[Maybe a more rational, well-adjusted kid would've thought all the bubbling, cut open array of items on the table was gross. But, well, Quark didn't like to think he scared easily. He was used to things being kind of gross and gritty and dark, back home. And in any case, nobody could convince him that this didn't look like the work of a scientist. A crazy scientist who maybe didn't know what he was doing, mind you. But wasn't science supposed to be messy? That was why they had to do so many experiments when testing out theories!]

Floor 53

[tentacletrainer]

[[Rose had no doubt Gamzee was likely suffering the same effects as anyone else, and watching him wear at the chalk in his hand was a little discomforting. Not really because it was doing any harm to anything, but sometimes she wondered if he wouldn't just run out of chalk and start wearing down his fingers instead.

After a little while of watching him, she finally decided to approach, ignoring the gaggle of shadows chasing at her heels.]]

You'll run out of chalk soon if you keep that up.

[hystericull]

[Fingernails before actual fingers. He'd wear those down first, much to the displeasure of any and all aural receptors in the vicinity. The sounds being driven in to him were maddening - enough so that he didn't pay any mind to Rose as she approached, though the twitching of his ears would have alerted her that her presence was at least known.]

[He hadn't a need to engage her, until he was spoken to. Without pausing his transcriptions for even a moment, he spoke directly at the chalkboard.]

There be other motherfuckin' things all a brother can get his find on of if such a fucking sitch were all to be up and presenting at itself.

[tentacletrainer]

[[Still, eventually he would find his fingers, and that wouldn't be any good for him.]]

Perhaps, but chalk is the easiest to use, isn't it? Besides, surely you're getting tired of all that writing.

[hystericull]

[The chalk clattered against the board as he scrawled, little bits crumbling off from the excessive pressure he was putting on the piece.]

...The fuck you be gettin' on an interest in motherfuckin' all what's to be the perceived tiredness going on in my limbs?

Shut up--

[He hissed the command into the air. Part of the dialogue screeching in his head drowned out a moment in which Rose could have replied to him.]

Uh... you say somethin'...?

Floor 62

[stitchedupbodyguard]

[Great, another beach. Veronica would have simply waved this floor off and continued on to the next one but she had to stop and stare. It seemed like something tore the beach apart. Holes everywhere, what she figured to be claw marks, odd purple smears in the sand. Either a monster had gone through here or something else.

She stepped carefully around the holes, peering into each of them for whatever could be there. She could smell something here, but where was it?

Finally she looks into another hole and found what appeared to be a human covered in gray paint and wearing some weird headwear. She'd seen stranger things.]

Uh... excuse me?

[hystericull]

[Advanced sniffer or no, Gamzee was easy to smell either way. However, the scent of salt and surf and sand were also heavily threaded through the air, so his usual foul stench was somewhat covered.]

[Veronica was pretty accurate in deducing it to be the work of a monster, or something similar. The laughing lords know that despite looking like a human, Gamzee was usually the farthest thing from one. He scratched and tore at the hole he was constructing until he heard her voice, then his head snapped up abruptly.]

[His face was painted with white and gray, though most of it was smeared now from his romp in the sand. Spots of yellow from his sclera and his horns were pretty much the only color he had to him on account of his gray skin and black clothing.]

Excuse the fuck outta you is motherfuckin' right.

[His head popped up over the edge of the hole. He hadn't realized how deep he'd actually dug himself.]

The fuck you want!?

[stitchedupbodyguard]

[Gamzee was in fact the last thing Veronica expected to see. She nearly jumped back in alarm at the sight of him. She'd never seen someone with horns before, or gray skin.

She raises an eyebrow at the troll's language though.]

Well, what I want is to know just what the hell you're doing. look at this mess!

[hystericull]

[He stares at her for a moment before folding his arms over his chest.]

I ain't owing you no motherfuckin' explanatories on accounts all of my god damn behavior, yo. The fuck are you thinking you all is - the motherfuckin' beach police?

[stitchedupbodyguard]

[Your way of speaking annoys her.]

No, but I'm really curious as to why you're tearing this beach apart. You looking for something?

The Beach

[pushedaround]

[ He just wanted to escape the tower and all it's drama. Take a breather. Some fresh air perhaps, even when he knew in the back of his mind it was all fake. Whatever. He's heading to the beach in hope of finding a place to relax.

Once he reached the floor, Tavros had no interest in knowing who vandalized the place. Instead, he wandered further in, trying to find an isolated, clean spot for himself. That was the plan-

-but everything changed when he located the source of all this mess. ]

Gamzee ...

[ It could be the highblood's way to blow off some steam, but Tavros felt a bit uneasy as he watched. Not really sure if he should interrupt him or not. ]

[hystericull]

[Well, he technically did interrupt him already, so that choice was done and fucking dusted. Tavros' mere presence was enough to halt Gamzee in his tracks. The scent of him was particular enough for him to discern through anything else he may have been smelling at the time - and the beach brought a lot of smells that could easily get him lost in a tumultuous wave of nostalgia.]

[In any case, Gamzee's clawing at the sides of the hole slowed considerably, but did not stop. The last time he heard that voice, it had been telling him how disappointed it was in him. How much he fucked up and left him to die. That's not what friends do to friends. That's--]

[That was an illusion. This was the real Tavros, now. No more shadowy voices yelling and accusing in his ears. He kept digging.]

It's what they fuckin' call me.

[pushedaround]

[ Tavros sighed softly. First Tohko was ill, and now this. It seems everyone is having their own drama with this event, and yet Tavros didn't feel anything, only extreme exhaustion .. and frustration. He just wanted to get back to his bad habit of sleeping for days, and not deal with this. He didn't want to fucking deal with any of this.

That was the plan. Play dead until this event is over.

He could still persuade that plan. It's not like Gamzee is showing any sign of interest in socializing, and perhaps Tavros is intruding like a rude motherfucker. Yet, just making sure- ]

So, um, do you want to talk about this? Or maybe you just ... want to keep digging ...

Uh.

[ . . . ]

Do you want me to go find Fef?

[hystericull]

[Tavros, you always intrude like a rude motherfucker. Then again, Gamzee would be hells of concerned if ever you didn't, so please feel free to proceed. Most of what the boy had said had been ignored in favor of peeling out chunks of rock and shell from the sides of his hole. He was making a nice little pile of junk by his feet, each stone clinking against the other as he pulled them out.]

[Until Tavros mentioned Feferi, to which Gamzee still didn't raise his head, but chuckled a bit at his pile of seashells.]

Not motherfuckin' necessary.

[Truth be told, he was not as close to a mental breakdown as he usually was. He just needed to blow off some steam, find something to do with his hands. With a sigh, Gamzee collected the pile of shells into the bottom of his t-shirt, holding them in place with one hand and using the other to hoist himself up the edge of the hole. He stayed there for a moment, torso sticking over the edge while his arm splayed on the surface to keep himself from dropping back down.]

Hey.

[...]

Got sand in places I all wasn't motherfuckin' thinkin' could have sand in them.

Floor 27

[doctor_dismemberment]

[Over a week. It had been over a week since he'd been back here. Not just here, the lab, but here, the Tower itself. After over a week of walking around on his dead world (something he'd only ever heard about until that point, but had never experienced himself), he was understandably a little antsy.

...Okay, not a little. He was way past fucking antsy. He and antsy weren't even in the same solar system any more. He could only focus on the scientific merit of being on his dead world for so long. Soon, he found himself worrying about what was going on back in the Tower. What were people doing with his things? Was he stuck there forever? Were those incompetent idiots at least skilled enough to stop Ruana from squeezing his soul out like the juice from an orange, or whatever she was planning to do?

But, just as he'd found himself on the brink of full-blown desperation, he'd found himself back in his bed-- pod. Whatever. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than being trapped on his dead world with only the severed head of a dead-again zombie to keep him company.

After a thorough look through his trunk to ensure that everything was still there - collar fluid, ammo, tape recorder, spleens in jars - he made his way to the lab to make sure nobody had tried to make use of what little 115 was still there.

He wanted to say that he was relaxed, knowing he was no longer in danger of being turned into soul juice, but he was far from it. The voices were still scolding him (and my, they hadn't stopped shouting the whole time he was on his dead world), so naturally, he strode into the laboratory arguing back.]

Nein, nein, you don't have to sound so angry- Of course I will. Shut up! You're so-

[When he saw the bubbling beakers, he stopped like a deer caught in the headlights. Seeing someone else in the lab was bad enough on its own - he needed his solitude, damn it - but the moment he saw those brightly-colored horns rising up over the top of a table, he knew he wasn't getting out of this without getting incredibly angry.]

Ugh. What are you doing in here?

[He sounded possessive, as if he'd just wandered into his room to find Gamzee reading through his diary. Or listening, in his case. Shut up, fuck you.]

[hystericull]

[Richtofen could add himself to Gamzee's shit list, if he wanted. Not that he wasn't already making up 95% of that list, but the gesture would have been nice, anyway. Gamzee had also never been one of the people selected to return to their deserted homelands, and now that Richtofen had, it just made him even more of a minority.]

[Honestly, it wasn't that difficult to pick up on the fact that there was another person headed his way. Gamzee may have been absorbed in his work, and he may have been one of the most oblivious people to ever exist, but he still kept an ear and a nose out for things that may compromise his safety - now more than ever.]

[He both heard and smelled the other man approaching - what with his incessant babbling to himself, who wouldn't be able to hear him? Gamzee's ears twitched beneath his monstrous curls as the distant sound of Richtofen's voice hit them. There was no real preparation for an altercation at all. The boy continued on at his same pace, peering into beakers and playing with lumps of bloodied flesh until he'd heard the telling footsteps of heavy boots on the ground.]

[Normally, he wouldn't have given an intruder a second glance, but Richtofen always looked so delicious when he was angry. Er, maybe that wasn't quite the right word... Ah, maybe it was. Who knows. Gamzee gave a polite smile full of fangs, which actually wasn't polite in the least, if you had any prior knowledge of this kid at all.]

Doin' magic tricks. Did you all come to motherfuckin' get your amazement on?

[doctor_dismemberment]

[The longer he stood there, the more fully he was able to comprehend what it was he was seeing - and smelling. The tang of something rancid and metallic hit his nose like a slap to the face. He bit down on his lip. After spending over a week around corpses that didn't do anything but lay there with their organs dangling out of their mouths, it was nice to smell something so fresh, so appetizing.

But he couldn't let Gamzee know just how exhilirating it was. That would be like letting him win something, and he couldn't have that. He kept a sour look on his face and took a few slow steps closer, arms crossed over his chest.]

There is nothing magic about what you're doing.

[He cast a disdainful glance at the spot that looked like it had been blown up, then turned back to the beakers. They certainly smelled like blood, but those colors... His heart started to race. He hoped that liquid was what he thought it was.]

Er-- Tell me. [He shook his head in an attempt to clear it.] What are you - shut up, shut up - tr-- ugh-- trying to do here?

[Damned voices, could they leave him alone for just five minues? He had an alien to interrogate.]

[hystericull]

[The flesh still attached to the horns on the table wasn't enough to go completely rancid, but they didn't smell too great to begin with. If Gamzee had had his way, the entire head would be sitting in front of him rather than just one horn from each corpse. But, this is what he could scavenge, and this is what he had to work with. The blood was a lot easier to come by. Siphoning it from freshly-killed bodies before they were dragged off by retrieval units was sort of like a game of beat-the-clock. He'd amassed a nice variety, but it paled in comparison to all of the trolls he could have collected were he back home.]

[Yellow, jade, red, blue, brown. Fuchsia, soon, if he was lucky. They boiled and sputtered, making hideous noises when large, thick bubbles popped from the heat. The judging glance at his charred corner was noted, but not acknowledged. He had wanted to test the rumored beneficial properties of the human element potassium on troll hide. He wasn't sure how a metal was to be absorbed into the skin, so he thought he could break it down in some heated water.]

[Evidently, he thought wrong.]

Ain't never much expecting your ass to motherfuckin' get to seeing no magic nowhere.

[He muttered through his grin, dropping a few bits of things he'd found around the lab into containers of liquids. It seemed that he was working towards a goal with some experiments, and just trying to blow shit up with others.]

[Richtofen had an interested speech pattern going for him - even more pathetic than usual. Gamzee knew that stutter, though. He was well-versed in the pause-and-mumble of batting off internal voices. His fake smile gave way to a smirk which was more sincere.]

None of your fuckin' business.

[Maybe he'd have more luck with potassium iodide. He turned around, facing another table with a few beakers on it. Hydrogen peroxide was supposed to have disinfectant properties, right?]

[Wrong.]

[FUCK!!! Well... now everything was a nice shade of yellow. Good thing he wasn't doing this next to his precious blood samples. Sorry if you got hit with some golden splooge, Richtofen. If you didn't, please ignore the nasty mess that was just made. Gamzee turned to finally face him.]

The fuck you want, anyway? Keen on motherfuckin' adding another conversational partner to the wicked cacophony you got goin' on?

Lab

[warriorscribe]

Enoch rarely wandered the tower aimlessly since the time Riki had more than doubled its size. But it seemed like the thing to do, after that mess with the shadows, in a lull in activity for the trauma to sink in.

It was what led to him coming across this curious sight.

"Ah, Gamzee...? What are you doing?"

[hystericull]

[The kid was not really expecting company. In a tower this huge, company was inevitable, but after a period of inactivity leaving him alone to his work, he'd sort of become accustomed to the silence. When Enoch called out to him, his head shot up, and his fingers tensed against the table. His big rack of horns threatened to knock everything over with the force of his actions, but missed the entire setup by only a few inches.]

Bein' motherfuckin' interrupted! The fuck do you want!?

[Sorry, he's cranky when he's startled.]

[warriorscribe]

Ah... I'm sorry.

*He steps off the staircase but doesn't approach.* I was only curious. I've never seen anyone doing anything like this.