towerofanimus | [Open Log]

Entry tags:

[Open Log]

Characters: AU Eridan, OU Vriska, and Open!!
Setting: Somewhere in the tower, feel free to choose. He's travelling down the stairs for lunch.
Format: Either is fine.
Summary: Eridan is out and about. Meet him! Also Vriska is going to try to feed him to spidermom.
Warnings: Nothing yet. Eridan's foul mouth is certain to be found here.

[Hoarding food can only take you so far. Eridan's still not really talking much to his roommate, mostly because he's a bit resentful that Taiki took a flying leap off the tower with Eridan on his back. Stupid weird paranoid crying kid who claimed to fly but didn't even have wings and stupid Eridan for believing him and stupid tower for existing. He misses Feferi so much his wind tube hurts.

So anyway, he can't ask Taiki to bring him food anymore, so that means he has to go down to the cafeteria. But. He's not scared. Eridan Ampora doesn't get scared. He just doesn't want to have to deal with all this weird glubbing shit.

He is climbing down the stairs, head held high and a very 'come at me bro' look on his face. If anyone wants to give him shit for existing or something, he is so ready]

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It sure sounded good. Eridan scowled at the floor, fiddling with the end of his scarf, which was a little frayed. Didn't Psiioniic get it? Couldn't he tell by looking at Eridan's worn clothing?

"I mean that he wwon," he said. "And us sea dwwellers wwere laid loww. The wwhole hemospectrum got fuckin' flipped."

Now that he was looking, Ψiioniic could see the state of disrepair the sea dweller's clothes were in. He'd initially written it off to the effects of the tower - his own clothes weren't exactly looking fresh and fabulous anymore. But Eridan hadn't been here long enough for that to be a factor, he'd said.

The idea of the sea dwellers being at the bottom of the hemospectrum was so impossible to grasp that Ψiioniic could barely wrap his mind around it. But he was sure of one thing. "If the hemothpectrum was flipped, then we didn't 'win', we LOTHT," he insisted quietly, eyes down. "People are still thuffering. There are still low-bloods. Changing the COLOUR doesn't change the inherent wrongness of our violent thystem."

Eridan was feeling a bit self-conscious about how obvious he had been with his insecurities and fears. He sneered, drawing himself up and pushing his nervousness aside. Though his fins were still tight, he tried to cover that with bravado.

"Yeah, but at least it isn't you sufferin' noww is it. Don't pretend you aren't at least a little satisfied wwith this turn of affairs." He snorted and started down the steps. He wasn't absconding, he was just, figuring this conversation was probably over - and hoped that Psiioniic wouldn't flatten him against a wall for his impudence.

&3936;iioniic stared after him, trying to find words to express what should have been obvious. Eridan spoke as if this reversal of the hemospectrum in his timeline somehow put Ψiioiic in a better position, as if it had anything to do with him at all.

"I'm a thlave," he finally said, flatly, before Eridan had gotten more than a few steps down. "I've been a thlave half my life. I've been assaulted, tortured, brainwashed and completely fucked over, bound into a ship ath its Helmsman and turned into an object. BOTH of my previouth owners are here in the tower, and I've already died twithe in the last month becauthe of them. If anybody ith still experiencing any of that, regardless of what colour their blood happenth to be, I don't see what I have to be thatisfied with."

Though inwardly Eridan was flinching, he struggled to keep it out of his bearing. He was sick of feeling off-balance and confused, and this was one of the people who was directly responsible for him having a completely shitty life, even if it wasn't his intention.

"Isn't that all the moray reason for you to loathe me?" he snapped, whirling around and letting his cape flare out dramatically, though the fish pun that slipped out reflected his true emotional state. "I'm one a them. One a the kind a people wwho made you suffer and enslavved you. Wwhy wwouldn't you be satisfied that I'll nevver havve the chance to hurt someone the wway you'vve been hurt? And probably, wwhether you admit it or not, you feel I deservve this! Evveryone else does, so wwhy wwouldn't you?"

"Why wouldn't I? Becauthe I'm a comrade of the Signless," Ψiioniic said, drawing himself up despite his instinctive need to cringe and flinch away from the angry high-blood, despite the way he had to bite his tongues to keep from blurting out apologies and begging forgiveness. "Violence ith WRONG. Suffering is WRONG. Trolls can be better than the hemospectrum allowth us to be... no matter which way it runth. And I will believe that no matter how much they torture me for it - and they have. Oh god, they have."

His voice shook, and he had to stop for a moment to swallow, but then he continued doggedly. "And I won't thay that I wouldn't be just ath happy to see the Condesce or Dualscar get thome of their own medicine. Because I'd be lying - they hurt me, they hurt me SO BADLY, and I want them to pay for it. But you're not them. You've never done anything to me - or to anybody elthe, probably. You've suffered ath much as any low-blood. There'th nothing for you to pay for."

Eridan almost took a step back, but at the last instant he remembered that he was on a staircase and that would probably result in his death. He stared up at the goldblood, scarcely able to believe his auricular sponge clots.

He'd never heard someone talk like this. Not to him, and it closed his wind tube so much he had to swallow a few times before he could speak. When he spoke, he could hear the desperate hope in his own voice, and cringed at it, but the words were already out.

"You reely feel that wway?"

If he'd fallen Ψiioniic would have caught him, but it was probably just as well that they didn't put it to the theory. Talking like this to someone who was - as far as Ψiioniic's instincts were concerned - a high-blood was taking every bit of nerve he possessed, and it left him rather shaken.

"I do. I have to," he said. "It wath hearing all this from the Signless that gave me the thtrength and hope to free mythelf the first time. The belief that we CAN be better, that we SHOULD be better. And 'better' doethn't involve torturing different people. I want the suffering to end... not to become one of the people cauthing it. You have no idea how much it hurts me to know that our beliefth ended up creating a different sythtem of torture, and it will hurt SS even more."

Eridan frowned a little, turning that over in his mind. He'd never been religious - in fact, he'd deliberately rejected the Sufferer's faith, like all good sea dwellers. But there was some attraction to this.

More attraction to putting things back the way they had been, but that was difficult to imagine. He knew there were groups trying to do that, but he'd always kept his head down. He didn't want to die for a bunch of brinesuckers who'd never done anything for him, after all.

He honestly had no idea what to say to all that.

"...Oh."

The awkward response made Ψiioniic realize how much he'd started preaching, and he blushed a dull shade of yellow. "Uh. Thorry," he said, just as awkwardly. "It's sort of thomething I'm passionate about. Don't get me thtarted if you don't want to listen to a half hour lecture... and definitely don't get SS thtarted, he's even more into it than I am. But I really do mean it. I don't care if you're a thea dweller... if you're a low-blood, you've been hurt just ath much as I have. Even if my conditioning thays I should throw mythelf at your feet and beg forgiveness," he added, sighing.

If Eridan were being honest, he hadn't been hurt quite as much as Psiioniic - but a lot, still! His mind insisted - and he wasn't really sure what to do with the feelings that this whole conversation had inspired.

Bad enough winding up Sollux Captor's kismesis. Did he have to start feeling pity for his ancestor, too? That was patently ridiculous.

"Wwell, there's nothin' to forgivve," he said awkwardly. He wasn't sure what to say. How lame would it be to admit that no one's ever been nice to him like this, and given him a chance to just be himself, instead of instantly labelling him a sea dweller and making assumptions?

"So, um." Once again Ψiioniic was completely at a loss for how to continue the conversation, or even if he really wanted to continue it at all. Talking to a sea dweller, low-blood or not, was difficult for him. But he didn't want to just spout off at the poor guy and then abscond on him. "I wath going to get some food...?" he finally said, half statement and half invitation.

"Yeah, me too," Eridan said, then winced faintly. It seemed obvious that Psiioniic was as uncomfortable with him as he was, and both of them were pretty much searching for a way out of the conversation. He hesitated, then added haughtily, "But if you don't wwant to join me, I wwon't be offended."

It was a lot easier to deal with that haughty attitude when Ψiioniic could see that it was covering a low-blood's natural insecurity and nervousness. Despite himself, it made Ψiioniic smile faintly. "Well, I wouldn't want to intrude," he said, tilting his head. "But if the high-bloodth give you any trouble... either version of them... I'm usually pretty eathy to find, and I like company."

Even if there weren't any of the high-bloods from this Eridan's timeline here, Ψiioniic could easily imagine what people like the Condesce and Dualscar would think of a sea dweller who acted like a low-blood. Eridan might be in for MORE torment from them than he would be from the high-bloods he was used to.

To be honest, Eridan wasn't sure if he wanted to meet the Condesce or Dualscar. He knew that his ratty clothing and life story would probably meet with nothing but contempt from them, but there was a secret, hopeful part that wondered if they might take some pity on him, even be angered on his behalf.

The goldblood's reaction, on the other hand, had him stymied. He had been trying to give him an out, but he hadn't taken it. In fact, this sounded like something of an invitation, but giving him an out.

Which was a bit irritating. "Wwell, it's no intrusion," he said firmly. "Though I definitely don't need your help wwith any highbloods, a either type. Anywway, come on." As he turned around, he felt nervous all over again. What in hell were they going to talk about?

Now Ψiioniic wasn't sure if Eridan actually wanted him there or not - but it would be far too awkward for them to just silently walk to the same place and then deliberately pick different places to sit, he supposed. He fell in behind the younger troll, eyes firmly on the floor, wondering what he should do.

"Jutht because you don't need help doesn't mean it might not be nice to know it's available," he finally offered. That was a lesson he'd had to learn, working with Signless and the others. Accepting help didn't always mean that you were admitting weakness - or even that you were implying you couldn't do it without help. It was just... easier to have it. "What'th wrong with taking advantage of an offered ally? Just saves your thtrength for other battles."

Eridan opened his mouth, then closed it, frowning deeply. The truth was, he'd never had a proper ally. Feferi was someone whom he protected, and Sollux might offer some protection, but it was a protection that came with prices and conditions. They were kismeses, so it had to be that way.

"I'vve nevver needed help before," he lied. He'd never had help, so he'd always had to deal with things by himself. "I'm pretty fuckin' self-reliant, an I don't see any reason to change that noww. If I rely on you to get me out a situations, then wwhat happens wwhen you're not around or decide you don't wwant to help?"

It wasn't hard for Ψiioniic to translate that statement into it's real meaning. Especially as he hadn't really expected anything else. Trolls were programmed by society not to ever admit to weakness or even anything that could be construed as a weakness, and not to ever rely on anybody but themselves. They were segregated and alone, always fighting against one another, with the rare exceptions permitted among moirails and matesprits.

That was why so many people had had so much difficulty understanding the relationship between the Signless and his three closest companions. Disciple was his matesprit, or close enough that to an outsider it would make no difference - but Ψiioniic and the Dolorosa had been just as close to him, just as reliant upon and committed to him, without having any sort of formal title beyond 'friend'.

"Don't rely on me, then," he said, shrugging. "But you wouldn't refuse to use a weapon in a fight jutht because in your next fight it might not be available, right? That would be thilly."

Okay, Eridan had thought that what he said would be accepted and they could get off this weird helping thing. It wasn't that he wouldn't ask if he really did find himself in a situation where he needed the help. He just didn't want to admit that he might need the help.

But Psiioniic was insisting now, and that was a bit awkward. Eridan looked around at him, scowling a little. "I'vve got wweapons that don't talk back. And, and anywway, I'm not vviolent or anythin'. If someone attacks me, I'll defend myself, because you can't expect me to just roll ovver and die, but I'm not fuckin' go out go seeking trouble. Wwhich means there's no opportunity to evven ask for help."

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