Event: Consolidation Theory, Part Four and Five

[snowblindmods]

Characters: red-marked characters and their new friends
Location: ???
Date: Morning 354, Morning and Day 355
Summary: A quiet morning and a confusing morning, or maybe they're both, or maybe they're neither.
Warnings: gore, psychological horror, warn for specifics in the subject lines

Part Four OOC Post
Part Five OOC Post

Comments

[devoutish]

[Alfie's eyes go to Royce too, and they stay there on his sleeping form.]

Yeah. I suppose he told you, didn't he.

[And part of it - the part that happened after his memories came back - Alfie recognizes as Royce's fault, but he doesn't blame him. Not really.]

He's feeling awful about it.

[quadrangle]

[... Looking at Alfie then is something that Karkat really, really can't do, so he settles his gaze on the floor next and tries not to be obvious about drawing his knees in closer.]

Yeah, I can see why.

[God. Okay, no, he's taking deep breaths now. Nothing to see here. Fuck.]

[devoutish]

It's a cut, that's all.

[He lifts the injured arm - except now he has an injured everything, so there's not much to see, which is sort of the point.]

All of this - this isn't what he did. This was later, right; this was last night.

[He thinks. Time is fuzzy, and the memories are barely there.]

[quadrangle]

[Again, looking at Alfie is kind of difficult, but he'll glance over obligingly as quickly as he can.]

Oh. Yeah, you guys were... all of you? Everyone with the lines, you guys were fucking each other up. Us too, but I don't think I got it as bad as some people.

[devoutish]

[He gives Karkat a thoroughly unimpressed look.]

You're covered in blood, mate.

[quadrangle]

[At that, Karkat blinks and looks down at himself.]

Oh. Fuck, I forgot about that.

[He picks at his clothes with his good hand, then sighs and shakes his head.]

It's not mine. One of you assholes decided to bleed on me for some reason.

[devoutish]

And you don't know who it was.

[He says dreamily, picking at the air as if he were picking at cloth, too.]

It could've been me. It could've been him.

[quadrangle]

Oh my god.

[The most teenager sigh and eyeroll ever. A sighroll, even.]

I don't care if it was either of you, okay? I mean, I care if it means you're hurt that bad, but that's it.

[devoutish]

I wasn't saying it out of guilt, mate. But it's a funny thing, isn't it. We knew they were gonna take our memories, and yet--

[And yet that doesn't make it any less weird or unwieldy to deal with.]

[quadrangle]

[Okay, now he can venture eye contact.]

It's always fucked up no matter what, right? And it's probably going to get worse.

[devoutish]

[Hello, eye contact; it's probably depressing. There's a flash of spark every once in a while, but the vast majority of the time, Alfie's eyes are dull and lifeless. His wry tone is the liveliest thing about him.]

Yes - in the very special, uniquely Robert Miller way of doing things. We will attack and kill each other, but this time, we may not remember doing it.

[quadrangle]

[Karkat's not quite at that point, but god is that look familiar. It isn't fair.]

Do you want to remember?

[devoutish]

Yes, and no.

[He's still looking steadily at Karkat.]

Do you understand?

[quadrangle]

[Karkat snorts.]

Understand? I relate.

[Why are you even asking, Alfie, wow,]

[devoutish]

Yeah. I thought you might.

[He closes his eyes.]

Have you got any wounds of your own?

[He'd said the blood wasn't his, but Alfie is a little skeptical of the idea that none of it is. Surely he'd bled at least a little...?]

[quadrangle]

[He grumbles quietly, then subsides.]

Yeah, someone bit my hand. Pretty sure it's broken.

[devoutish]

Let's see it, then.

[Alfie motions him closer.]

[quadrangle]

[Karkat blinks at him, glances between them, and after a split-second's hesitation, scoots in range and holds his injured hand out. It's been bandaged and splinted, much like everyone else's injuries, but if Alfie's sure he wants to see it, then sure, why not.]

They tried fucking with my horns too, but nothing really happened there. I'm okay.

[devoutish]

Did they try to cut them off?

[He pokes at Karkat's hand, but very gently, barely even touching it. ]

Mm. Splint's well-made.

[quadrangle]

[He shrugs, and even if he's nervous about it, he doesn't pull his hand away.]

Break them off, I think? They were just pulling on them. I mean, it wasn't that bad, but it was fucking annoying.

[Also, painful. And humiliating, but he supposes technically no worse than anything he'd done to himself. Alfie doesn't need to know this.]

I don't know, your collective IQs took a fucking nosedive whenever Miller did his thing. At least it wore off.

[devoutish]

As did all our memories, yeah. I wonder why you remember a bit more than we do.

[quadrangle]

[Yeah, that's...]

[Hmm.]

... I can ask around.

[It's an offer made semi-reluctantly because no, no he is not feeling up to approaching total fucking strangers moreso than he already is, but this is important, right? So he should probably do it, assuming anyone is willing to talk.]

[devoutish]

[Alfie shakes his head, waving off the suggestion.]

Doesn't matter.

[He hears the reluctance, and anyway, he figures that if anyone has anything useful to share they'll do it of their own volition.]

When this is all over, John will put up a post about it, I'm sure. Much easier to gather information all at once, that way.

[quadrangle]

[Karkat grimaces, then shrugs. He should feel guilty about feeling relieved, and maybe he is, but that's not his dominant emotion right now.]

Yeah, John does that. Still, I don't know, it'd be easier if we could get shit down now while our memories are fresh.

[Such as they are. Whatever.]

[devoutish]

[Alfie touches his temple, wincing as he stretches his bandaged arm.]

Nothing about me is fresh at the moment, Karkat.