snowblindrpg | [network] @ADMIN; Obituary [DAY 246]

Okay.

[So there'll be at least two of them, but god knows who the second one is. The short guy, maybe? He was with the gangster the last time.]

Yeah, that's fine. I'm just, uh, going to wander the area. See what I can find.

[Hide his Vicodin somewhere.]

Keep in touch then, eh? Shouldn't take long.

[Considering some of the other shit Karkat had said at the time, the news that Davesprite remembers even a fraction of it is less than happy, and he freezes in place, waiting for... he's not sure. Some diatribe about how he doesn't know anything, the sort of thing he'd been expecting when he'd let loose on Davesprite before? But no, he just asks...]

[Karkat shudders, holding himself a little tighter.]

Everyone.

[Alfie. Royce. The Cat. Davesprite. John—both Johns. Everyone from home and everyone from here he felt even a scrap of affection for. He wad saved by the fact that some were little more than words on a screen to him, but then he'd stumble across a corpse and know with dreadful certainty that it was someone he hadn't met but had spoken to, someone who had been kind and helpful and would never be any of those things anymore, would instead just lie and rot slowly in the snow. He'd stopped looking after a while, hidden his face against the giant Cat's fur and let the world pass by, but he could still smell the blood.]

[Davesprite stares with his mouth just ajar. He's not even comfortable with the peaceful dead in their shelves in the morgues, but he can make himself tolerate those. Seeing everyone dead while not always being able to tell what was real or not is several steps too far past that point.]

[His mind rolls back to the night before. He had thought of Homura then and all she had been through, the weight of so many timelines before her without the solace of someone she could tell about it. It hadn't stopped him from his stiff, awkward posture. But maybe only thinking of himself as the recipient wasn't right.]

This is why I tried to ask you. You went through all that and still tried to say you're fine?

[He floats a space closer, in front of him, and his heads reach out with the intent to settle on Karkat's shoulders at the top of each arm.]

You can't bottle that up. You can't just be all concerned for me and all my dead friends and then pretend that didn't happen. You're only going to wreck yourself trying to help me if you do that.

Edited 2017-06-06 20:36 (UTC)

[Karkat flinches when Davesprite approaches him, already poised to flee by the time his hands hit his shoulders, but although his body sways briefly away, he stays rooted to the spot, still staring blankly forward. Davesprite's wing looks—wrong, for a moment, bent at an unnatural angle, his face covered with something brilliant and glowing, but he blinks again and it's gone. Imaginary. Fake. Everything Davesprite isn't, no matter what he says.]

[Another blink, then his eyes focus, another shiver wracking his frame. The fuck were they talking about again? Uh—]

It's—it's not like I haven't seen people die before. It's practically a fucking hobby at this point.

[He thinks that's right. It probably is. Still, he swallows hard and has to struggle to remember the rest.]

You have enough problems without having to worry about mine, right?

[Ecks should have made Clint pinky promise he wouldn't die again.

She still has the pig. That Clint, at least, she can keep safe.]

Yeah, maybe. In my experience time-travel just screws everything up more.

Don't put everything on your own shoulders. You said you had guesses?

Just about.

Where did you wake up? Do you need anything?

Not sure who Angel is, so no.

Am I really going to have to explain that's what she said jokes?

Edited 2017-06-07 07:04 (UTC)

[Davesprite can't see inside Karkat's head, but every sign speaks to how far he is from okay. Sway and shiver, the look to his eyes, even how he sounds. His own eyes scan over him taking it all in.]

I don't know if it was troll society making you think you don't matter or Gamzee's whole one-sided mess and where that led, or maybe some heinous combination of them both, but whatever put this idea in your head that this all doesn't matter is bullshit.

[He's thinking of that pale crush. He can't not think of it, but fuck, he can't let Karkat hurt himself this way. It's fine. It's a perfectly normal friend thing to not want your other friends to destroy themselves emotionally.]

[His hands clutch tighter, still on his shoulders.]

The fact you've seen enough people die to get used to it doesn't make it suddenly stop mattering. That makes it worse. I know your species is supposed to be all brutal and ruthless and whatever, but fuck that up its ugly ass. Seeing people die fucking sucks. You don't get to shove that down and pretend you don't feel it, because first off you suck at that, and second, I already told you you're going to destroy yourself if you keep it up. Can we just make that a rule between us? First condition of our particular personal chunk of the bro code: Karkat doesn't get to bullshit me that he's ok when he's not. You're allowed to feel messed up by, like, everything here. It messes me up too, look at me all admitting it, now you don't have an excuse not to.

I have revived.

[Strange seeing his own name on an obituary, even though he should be used to it by now.]

And your name is Greg, what's your point?

[Shut up, you jerk.]

[He stumbles upon this message a bit later in the day, though he's already forgotten about replying to England earlier.]

If you wanted to talk to me, why didn't you just call my tablet? You're being ridiculous, Mycroft.

[Honestly? Because he couldn't stand the thought of seeing that message go unanswered. It was stupid and illogical and completely ridiculous, but it still bothered him. Besides Sherlock would contact him as soon as possible, right?]

Sherlock!

[Mycroft was not prone to violence the same way John and sometimes Sherlock was, but he'd be lying if he didn't imagine one of his men throttling him a bit for making him suffer. A good shake would do. Of course he'd not resort to getting his hands dirty.]

Sherlock.

[A deep breath as he attempted to quell the rapid slew of emotions. Surprise. Utter, thankful relief. Regret. Anger. It was exhausting, this last week, and Sherlock's death had sent him to dark places he never wanted to go again.]

If you ever pull something like that again I will--

[A pause. Besides threatening to tell Mummy, there was little he could do.]

Don't do it again. Please.

[Mycroft never begged. Rarely pleaded. Sherlock could probably hear the ragged tone in his voice. The tone of a man who thought he lost everything.]

[It was always awkward when the mask fell away and revealed the emotion beneath, it served as a reminder that both of them were human no matter how much they tried to rise themselves above such a state.

Less now.

John had been the first to teach him that friendship, that sentiment, didn't necessarily mean weakness. But over the years there have been many others who have found themselves in his heart, and he doesn't think he wants to go back to a time without them. So perhaps hearing Mycroft's genuine emotion isn't the worst thing.

Still... he can't bring himself to respond quite so openly, he'll stick to text. Much better.]

Sorry.

[Sorry for hurting someone, not for what he did.]

I did inform you that I'd be back, though, so these histrionics are a little dramatic.

Yeah, just, uh...let me know when you get closer.

[Because hunting down this guy's screenname to message him is going to be a pain.]

Funeral home.

[What the hell, he's already told the actual gangster by accident.]

I think I'm alright. Nothing's missing, anyway.

So three out of five, at least.

[He's keeping an eye on this, trying to figure out if he knows any of the others who died. The doctor who has the detective friend is pretty obvious now that he's telling everyone off for thinking they know him, at least.]

You're keeping an eye on John?

[Getting a sorry out of Sherlock was actually more than he was hoping for. He'd been too eager to constantly tell Sherlock that sentiment wasn't an advantage over the years, that sometimes he was surprised when it actually did show through. He'd had John Watson to thank for that, ever since the two had met, it had changed Sherlock from who'd he become after Victor's death.]

You did, however, there are no guarantees.

[All lives ended. All hearts were broken. And he'd rather not care to experience all that again, if it could be at all helped.

He needed a bloody carton of cigarettes after all this.]

What do you remember after the video feed cut out?

People with our face are evidently immortal.

[That's a joke, you should laugh, Stephen.]

What is there to keep an eye on?

[Gamzee's name gets another flinch, but at least Karkat's listening now. He doesn't look especially happy with what he's hearing, but since when does he ever? And since when does Davesprite get to lecture him on shoving things down and pretending he doesn't feel them? What, should he be leaving it to the experts, then? Because that's been working out so well for both of them.]

[His scathing mental commentary isn't enough to blot out Davesprite's very real concern for him, though, and while he's still somewhat irked by the tightening grip on his shoulders, it's proving very effective at grounding him. Davesprite cares. Davesprite doesn't want him to destroy himself. That's—he's deliberately ignoring how he wants to interpret that, it isn't helpful, but even taking it and everything else he's saying as part of their "personal chunk of the bro code" is...]

[Karkat closes his eyes again and takes a slow, unsteady breath.]

Fine. Neither of us gets to bullshit being okay when we're not. Even if it's stupid and counterproductive and probably going to fuck the other one over even more.

[And that... really does go for both of them, doesn't it? Because seeing Davesprite messed up by all this still hurts, but he can't stand it when he hides either. This is so fucking stupid.]

[He rubs at his eyes again, feeling just so incredibly tired for a second that collapsing right where he stands is starting to sound really appealing. When's the last time he got any real rest? Being knocked out doesn't count, so... before he started transforming? Fuck.]

I still think you shouldn't have to worry about me, but you're going to do it anyway, aren't you?

[He's not so stupid as to not know how hypocritical he's sounding. Karkat and others beside have told him before how he doesn't need to bottle things up, and that if anything it's more harmful to do so. The sheer weight of everything on his mind prior to and during their fight proved it, too.]

[But right now, he sees how utterly worn down Karkat looks, and he knows what that feels like.]

I really can't stop myself when you look like this.

[His hands shift their hold. His fingers are tense.]

This is a one time thing, okay? No homo.

[And without any further warning, he part leans, part pulls Karkat into a hug as his arms loop firmly around his shoulders.]

[It's a little later on when he answers again. He's not doing perfectly, but talking to Karkat was enough to jar him out of the space of mind he was in at first.]

its too early to be sure
if im right it will probably come out sooner or later on its own
you want to just talk about why time travel sucks
i know i said i miss it but it messing things up is pretty objectively true from every time traveler ive spoken to including myself

[network] @ADMIN; Obituary [DAY 246]

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text; afternoon 246

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@beyonce | audio | evening 246

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cw: internalized homophobia

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