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)
towerofanimus2013-08-16 02:51 pm
hystericull) wrote in towerofanimus2013-08-16 02:51 pm
Entry tags:
019 ♑ [nineteenth honk]
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.]
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.
[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.]
[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.]
[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.]
no subject
[If his life depended on it, Gamzee could probably never quite explain all of the feelings he had about Tavros and about their relationship. It was the backbone for everything he was and would continue to be. If he didn't have this boy around to hold and to talk to and to watch perform even the most mundane of tasks, he would lose himself completely. As he was a symbol of home for Tavros, Tavros was a symbol of who Gamzee used to be, and the only good thing about home he could remember. He'd alienated himself from everyone else back home while they'd spent time in the tower together. He'd alienated himself from himself. However, whenever he'd forget that things from before had ever been good, or if he'd forget he had anything left to look forward to, Tavros would always show up as if on cue. This time was no different, either.]
[Gamzee practically ate those noises up, a low, pleased rumbling rising up from his throat in response to them. Lords, he was so smitten it practically hurt. He stood there for a long time, lost in the warmth and security of Tavros' hold on him, the sound of the tide and the refreshing coolness of the misty air. He sighed into the hair enveloping his face, pressing his lips somewhere in it all.]
[After a long, long while of holding Tavros against him and contemplating ever letting him go ever again in his life, he spoke.]
Come look at my hole.
no subject
Heh- hehe ...
[ He muffles the rest of his chuckle against the skin of Gamzee's neck, making no attempt on pulling away yet. It was too late for him; his body felt completely numb and dependent on the generosity of the other. As if he was so painfully deprived from all kinds of affection, even when that's not the case at all. It certainly felt like it, though.
His limbs are not cooperating, not willing to let go of their possession, even when he decided that he should, at least, make some effort to stare in amazement at the result of Gamzee's digging skills. ]
'Sorry. That sounded a bit lewd in my head.
[ And now, he will fulfill Gamzee's request, breaking apart from the comfort of their embrace and venturing alone toward the edge of the ditch. He stared at it for a few seconds before turning to face his matesprit again.
... ]
You have a nice hole.
no subject
[Gamzee did not protest in the slightest at being held longer for what was considered an appropriate hug length. In fact, when he was released, it was with a brief huff of protest before he got a hold of himself properly.]
[He turned around to admire Tavros admiring his hole, chilly, bloodied fingers finding their way under the hem of his shirt and into the deep pockets of his ratty pants. It felt strange, looking at the boy and not being immediately tangled up in him like he was accustomed to. Without stepping forward and risking losing such perfect scenery, Gamzee's eyes slid from the boy's sandal-clad feet to the mess of overgrown mohawk perched atop his head. His eyes drooped sleepily, and the corners of his mouth tugged up. Hard to believe that a moment prior, he was slicing out chunks of this strip of sand like he was intent on killing it.]
Thanks, motherfucker. You all shouldn't be perching your sweet self as all fuckin' close at to the edge of it as all you're to be motherfucking doing now. Got all some wicked ideas of tipping you in 'til you ain't nothin' but a little head poking up out the motherfuckin' ground.
[He grinned down at his shoes, popping his sockless feet out from them.]
Then I'd be having you at my motherfucking mercy, dog.
no subject
[ Using his claws, Tavros scratched at the curve of his neck, staring ahead. He finally noticed the level of destruction one single troll is capable of, and with that sudden ( yet very late ) realization, he averts his attention to the highblood's set of claws. As expected, those bony fingers are a bloody mess. ]
Do you ... feel any better?
[ He was more intrigued than concerned. This little Nitram resolved his problems in the least violent manners, and considering trolls nature, Gamzee's reactions is far more respectful. Maybe if he went crazy, screamed at random objects before flipping them into the void, he'd be able to release the stress and-- end up feeling better?!! It's an idea.
He joined Gamzee and removed his own sandals, surprisingly this time his feet are sockless as well. Unsure of what needs to be done after complimenting his matesprit's work, the Taurus settled on the warm sand and stretched his legs.
He smiled when he looked up at Gamzee, wiggling his toes. ]
If you still feel like shit, I know how to cheer you up.
no subject
[He found himself at a loss for words. Did he feel any better? Did tearing up the beach bring him joy? Not really, but he didn't feel nearly as murderous and agitated as he had before. He wasn't completely over it, but he was better. So, yes, he supposed he did feel better.]
Kinda.
[For Gamzee, it seemed the amount of words he spoke was directly in contrast with the amount of thinking he was doing. Less thinking, more words. More thinking, less words. He took a seat in the sand next to his matesprit, taking pleasure in watching the boy run his toes through the sand. It was a strange experience, sharing the beach with someone. He could watch someone else's toes instead of his own. He liked it.]
[Dipping his heels into the rise of the tide, he tossed an inquisitive look at his partner, followed by a chuckle that was mostly drowned out by the noise of the waves.]
And all just what the fuck sort of cheering up activities be you all having to be kicking up in that motherfuckin' cocoa bean yours, motherfucker?
no subject
This time, however, after watching his partner with a calm smile, Tavros leaned forward, touching the bottom of Gamzee's chin with a curled finger and thumb, burying the rest of his chuckle beneath a kiss. Its pressure is firm, forward and sure.
At the end of the day, he loved Gamzee with all his flaws. No question. If he had to spend the rest of his existence working on their relationship and finding a healthy approach, he'd do it with no regrets. Breaking the kiss, he crawled and settled behind his partner, stretching his legs on either sides. He beckons Gamzee to hunch forward before he placed both hands on his shoulders. ]
This will surely relax you!
[ Who wouldn't enjoy a motherfucking massage therapy?!! Whenever he encounters a restless beast, Tavros would take his time in 'pampering' it, and it proved to offer positive results. So-- it should work with Gamzee, right? ]
no subject
[His eyes drooped a little in the afterglow of a kiss he'd waited too long for, and in the current moment of fingertips on his shoulders.]
You ain't gotta fuckin' get on to all be doing this, motherfucker...
[His claws scratched at the dirt idly, and as much as he assured Tavros such gestures were unneeded, the way his tongue lolled out of his mouth stupidly proved otherwise.]