soul_logs | [OPEN] June 2012 Intro Log

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[OPEN] June 2012 Intro Log

Characters: OPEN
Where: Inside Shibusen - The Tour
Rating: Gen
Time: March 1 onwards
Description: Welcome to Death City! Ignore the sand.

It’s one of those days when the BREW starts making the weird energy readings it gives when about to pull people into Death City. Shibusen prepares the place as usual, setting up their tables, the communicators, and calling for the agents who kindly volunteered every time this happened.

Just before the BREW starts, however, a cloud of sand rolls over the city and covers it in darkness, dust, and wind, going high enough to envelop even Shibusen on top of its normally safe location overlooking the city. The alarms go out, the residents quickly retreat to shelter, and Shibusen...

Needless to say, Shibusen isn’t happy about this, and resignedly prepares the dorms instead.

ooc: Player characters will also be joining the log. Everything after the sub thread Dormitories is open to all characters, and people are free to make their own threads. Please put a header on it: [NAME][LOCATION][OPEN/CLOSE]

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"Depends all on what a motherfucker needs help with, don't it?" He grinned a cheshire grin, pointing one thumb to his chest. "You want this brother to reveal what all crazy majykks are swimmin' up in your soulspace?"

Or will you shove on off to find someone who might disturb you less? It's a challenge, really. Those hooded eyes are focused - mocking, in a way, if you think way too hard on it. There are plenty of others around who could do the job, after all.

"Step all the motherfuck on up closer to me."

John didn't really think too hard about much. He thought really hard about Nick Cage's face sometimes. And there wasn't anybody in the world who didn't let their metaphorical hands gently metaphorically caress Matthew McConaughey cheekbones that were not metaphorical in any way. But this whole situation was a little bit... weird. Like he ate a burrito, but the burrito had gone bad, a long time ago.

He was starting to really think this wasn't Vriska.

"Um, sure. Okay. You don't need to like, pry open my head or anything, right? Haha, that would be silly!" John sidled up to him, making sure to keep his hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.

Gamzee laughed along with him, the laughter mingling with honks partway through until that was all that was left. Then he stopped, rather abruptly, and brought two fingers up at the level of John's brow as if he might laser the top portion of the boy's head off in a manner heavily reminiscent of a villain in a certain superhero related television program.

"Sure would be, bro. Now don't motherfuckin' move." The actual attempt at syncing didn't require anything facy, but he liked to make a show of it. Physical contact helped too, but this would do just as well. "This might all hurt a bit."

Except it wouldn't.

John instinctively jerked back, but then slowly allowed himself to ease back into the strange situation. He should have gone to Mississippi. Mississippi probably didn't have witches and warlocks and wizards, or that's what he assumed they had here in Nevada, he hadn't really been listening. But hey, the stranger he knew was better than the stranger he didn't know. Hopefully.

"Yeah, but I hope it doesn't hurt like dicks or anything. Like, I think I might need my soul for stuff. Like, soulful stuff. Can't do soul searching without a soul. Or maybe that's what I'm searching for? Haha. Ha!" God, was he blabbering? He wasn't blabbering. He wasn't blabbering at all as he let a strange troll touch his soul in strange ways. Not at all.

The troll just smiled, and gently tapped John on the forehead with those same two fingers. "Meister."

It was a little disappointing, really. He hadn't gotten to identify a weapon yet. That would be fun, especially if he could con them into letting him wield them for a bit. His own partner probably wouldn't mind. But with a meister all he got to do was stand there and give them the news - not nearly as exciting.

This whole process needed a little more flare. He should have brought some special stardust for added effect. People hated that shit. It would be great.

"Oh! Yeah. Yeah, that's cool. Meister. I don't really know what that does, but that sounds pretty cool. Maybe being a Meister is like being bait. Meister Baiter. You know." John scooted a little further away to a safe zone, and fiddled around with his fingers. The news of his soul had little impact on him, other than a little bit of smug satisfaction that he did, indeed, have a soul that he could sell on eBay. The real question, then, laid in shipping.

"Thanks for helping me out, that was pretty cool stuff. I mean, Karkat probably would have yelled for hours, y'know, talkin' up about snugnuts and gnopes." John could only assume Karkat at some point in his life uttered those words, and hopefully referring to food and not genitalia. "I mean, you are a troll, right? It's a long way from home..."

Actually somewhere around 1,124 miles and a few universes away from his house, but who's counting.

"As troll as my blood is indigo, motherfucker. Egbert." He gave John a little wink at that. Given how long the trolls had basically been spying on them, it shouldn't come as any surprise that he knew his name, but he liked tossing it out there just because they'd never officially met in person.

"And if you ain't got all yelled at by my palebro yet, I could go on and find him for you." It would be a real shame for Karkat to miss out on the opportunity. What with him losing so many quadrants recently and all. "Want I should give the motherfucker a call?"

Edited 2012-06-25 07:58 (UTC)

"If you want? I haven't seen him in like, years, wow..." It was one year, John. One. "I guess this place just takes everybody here, huh? I mean, jeez, last time I saw him, he was on this like... asteroid, going somewhere, and he was there with I think Vriska and Dave and Rose and his weird asshole friend who was a murderer but also his best pal I guess and his sorta girlfriend, I think, I dunno, he kept on talking about pans."

John, at this point in time, seemed to remember something from a long time ago. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. His eyes flickered over him, but this time, with far more acuity.

"I'm guessing you're not Vriska."

In answer to that, the clown just tilted his head, grin still firmly in place, and honked.

No, certainly not Vriska. Though given how some humans started blending together after a while, he couldn't really blame John for not being able to tell one troll from another. They hadn't exactly spoken over text, either. This really was a special sort of introduction.

"Gamzee, bro. Gamzee motherfuckin' Makara." He gave a little bow. "We ain't all met up proper."

"That asshole clown?" He blurted it out without thinking, but even if he had given it any thought, he probably would have ended up saying the same thing. He drew back his hands suspiciously, because it didn't feel like a handshake of genial acquaintance, nor a resounding fistbunp of mild fraternization.

To be honest, he wasn't really sure how to think. Troll culture was weird, and strange, especially if Vriska was any indication, and Karkat would either know better or think he knew better and if he was still friends with an asshole, then maybe the hole was not as assish as he thought it was. Maybe Gamzee was just a butthole. How could he tell? John was only one mere man among immortals. And a year ago was a long, long time. He might have accidentally thought his name was Garnzee, or Garsee, or Goatse, who knows.

"I guess that explains why Karkat is here..." It actually did not explain why Karkat was there, but John felt very self-assured at the moment in his knowledge.

If Gamzee was at all bothered by being called an asshole, or by any implications of how John might have reached that certain title, he certainly didn't show it. The clown had never minded being called anything, really, and that hadn't changed. He just continued to smile, as though the boy had said little more than a friendly greeting.

And perhaps he enjoyed the uncomfortableness of others just a little too much.

"Yeeeah, motherfucker! Someone's gotta be here to pap my silly clown ass when it all motherfuckin' needs it." And he winked. He could tell John that Karkat had been there first, and that apparently Gamzee himself had been around before and just didn't remember it, but none of those details were really needed at this point in time. If his moirail wanted to, he could deal with them later. He always did a far better job with the explanations, anyway.

John was guessing maybe this was why Karkat was so defensive over the maybe girlfriend thing. Papping asses. He could only hope this was not a cultural thing. Or maybe it was a cultural thing? Maybe, when he first saw Karkat, he should give him a preemptive pap on the ass to show him, boy howdy, welcome to Nevada, with complete comprehension and respect for personal spaces everywhere! The more John thought about it, the more good of an idea it seemed.

Karkat would be so impressed.

"So you're not doing that stuff anymore?" It had been a year, after all, and everybody else seemed alive. Just in case, though, he subtly tried to touch his head and make sure his soul was still in place and intact.

"What all stuff do you mean? I can do lots of shit, bro." The troll might not have been able to read John's mind, but he had a fair idea of what the boy was talking about. All the same, he had no reason to say as much. That little mess was behind him, and not at all worth thinking about.

After all, what sort of troll didn't throw a fit and kill a few of his friends at least once in his lifetime? He could hardly be blamed for being upset.

"Sure is some wicked ass hoodie you got there, breath dude. I'm diggin' that no wing look."

"Am I supposed to have wings?" John tried to turn around and see if he actually did have wings. He finished his second loop around before concluding that one, he did not have wings, and two, he grew very, very dizzy very, very quickly. Getting wings with a soul sounded kinda cheesy to him. Like a McDonalds order gone terribly, terribly wrong, a half-priced soul with a side-order of fluffy wings. But back to matter at hands.

"Wait, no, you can't get nothin' by me. I mean, I'm guessing you don't do any of your shenanigans anymore, since everybody here seems alive, but if they were dead, I wouldn't be seeing them." John was a detective at heart, a regular Sherlock Watson. Then again, he might very well go Bruce Willis at the end of Sixth Sense for everybody, so he couldn't exactly rule out that everybody here was dead, which would either be very depressing or create an excellent opportunity to perhaps meet Nick Cage in the ghostly flesh.

Either way, he crossed his arms very sternly in a way very reminiscent of harsh reprimanding, which would be far more convincing if his eyes hadn't grown very cross-eyed from the spinning.

Gamzee just watched, amused, as John went in circles. Was he allowed to adopt a human as a pet? He'd already got this one to do loops without even trying. Next came jumping through rings of fire. A hero of breath could totally do this.

Poor John would find it very hard to look reprimanding, cross-eyed or no, while the troll was having mental images of him balancing a brightly colored beach ball on his nose.

"Oh fuck, you got me now. Backed me all the motherfuck into a corner now, brother. Can't hide no shit from you." He double-pistoled at the boy, nodding his head to get across that he understood his meaning. "I know what you motherfuckin' want, so you better be bringin' it. Dish me out some sick motherfuckin' human rhymes."

Edited 2012-06-26 01:51 (UTC)

John actually mildly wanted to go to the bathroom.

Being transported across universes was great fun and all, but it didn't really help anybody's bladder. But it seemed very logical that the troll who knew his name and title would also know he needed to pee, so it was troubling that said troll was now hoping he would apparently be bringing the pee. While rhyming. The pee might be a cultural thing, but asking him to pee while rhyming was just irrational behavior for any creature. That was like double-tasking.

Oh, God, he hoped nobody ever pestered him while they were peeing.

"Um, I could maybe do rhymes, but not the other thing..." John didn't mean to brag, but one time he got a Hard Worker sticker for his poems. It seemed this sort of thing was more of Dave's territory- nerdy, at best- but, being culturally sensitive meant hard work.

"So, uh... Hi, my name is John, sometimes I go to the john, this would be a crappy rap song, but at least we're getting along, even if your blood's purple and I'm... it's... bluarrggble."

Gamzee could only stare at John when he reached the end of his little rhyme. He wasn't sure if he could have cheered that on while high. "Bro, that was terrible. You best all motherfuckin' apologize to who all around in this general vicinity had to be gettin' their listen on for that. You can straight up ruin a bitch's groove with such lameness."

No rapping with you, John. That ship sailed right off the pier and sank like it had a solid lead cargo hold. There was no rescue crew that could be paid enough to haul it back up.

"How about this, motherfucker." He tapped a finger to his own chest. "You tell this brother what all you need and I'll send you out on your way with a shout-out to my palebro. Get you set out on the right motherfuckin' track." Unfortunately, John would find no check box of dual negative options here to easily turn down such an offer.

Edited 2012-06-26 05:59 (UTC)

☑ No ☑ Fuck No both wouldn't result in what John would have wanted, at any rate. He currently had readjusted his stance to defensively have his arms crossed and his face screwed up in what could be called petulance. This expression had made various starlit reappearances in movies such as No I Don't Want Any More Cake and Fuck You You are so Lame and Nick Cage is so Totally Sweet. The casting call for petulance this time was for the movie, His Rhymes were Cool and Screw You.

It would not have been a blockbuster.

"Yeah, okay. I guess even if I don't trust you and stuff, you still know what's going on, even if you're not Rose. I have a lot of questions so you better answer them! Like, since I'm a Mister, does that mean I need a Weapon? And does that mean I just lift someone up and hit people with them? Can I drink the water here or should I just buy it from the little bottles? After we beat the demons, we can go back, right? So what do they look like? Do they have mustaches? Is this like a bonus stage? If I punch boxes, will little gold coins fall out? Or do I need to break jars?"

The problem with asking a string of questions in the manner John just had was that it left the floor open for a string of answers that may or may not easily correspond with the questions originally given. And that, of course, was exactly how Gamzee would respond.

"Yes. Fuck if I know. Various shit. Motherfuckin' depends. Yeah, bro. Give it a fuckin' shot, and go for it." The troll then gave John another thumbs up and a smile, firmly believing he'd handled that rather well. As poorly as he rapped, he was pretty adorable when it came to everything else. Not that he'd say this out loud.

Fortunately for all parties involved, John's attention span had apparently shortened over his journey to the city of death and sometimes parties, and after he got the sole point he wanted, he slowly nodded in comprehension. So he was a mister, and he needed to get a Weapon. That sounded fair enough. Gentlemen needed weapons, so it all made sense.

After all, he missed being equipped already. It wasn't like he was a weaponphiliac, but in a dangerous new city, shouldn't it be safety first? He was Concerned about Safety. He was safer than a safe locked up in a bank locked up in another bank locked up in a vault. Anyway, he might later experimentally jump off a tree or something to see if he could still fly. All in the name of safety.

"Are you a weapon?" He looked at Gamzee with increasing dubiousness. It wasn't like he was averse to having him as a weapon- it was just that he was averse to having him as a weapon. He wasn't sure if he could swing Gamzee around. Those horns seemed heavy and easily caught on wool.

The troll shook his head. "Shit nah, I'm as mister as you are, bro." He could correct him on the actual term, but that wouldn't be any fun. It was true either way, regardless. "Better get all on advertisin' your bad self. Let all those weaponized motherfuckers know you're available, you dig?"

He winked then, because finding a partner was almost like putting together a whole new quadrant, wasn't it? Except then they wouldn't be quadrants. They'd be more like quintlets, or whatever it was called when there was five of them. He didn't honestly care. It was a new relationship of some sort.

"You're good at swingin' shit around, yeah?"

"Not shit, because that's kinda gross, but yeah, I guess I should find someone who I can swing around and hit... I hope they're light." John had never really looked at the advertisements at the bottom of the websites (or at least, not until Dave finally told him how to get rid of them), but he had the general idea down. Maybe it would go like one young man seeking lightweight weapon, preferably not liking candlelit dinners or long walks on the beach because he really isn't into that, preferably alive.

"How'd you get yours? Or is yours Karkat or something?" Those needed to be separate sentences. John tried to picture Gamzee swinging around Karkat and tossing him at all the enemies.

The ease of which he could picture it was frightening.

Edited 2012-06-26 21:15 (UTC)

"If Karkat was all about wantin' me to wield him proper, then I'd be all over that." And it was true. Despite the fact that he already had a weapon he worked with just fine, if his moirail asked him to work with him instead he'd switch over without complaint. Palebros had to stick together and all that. "He ain't all asked as much, though."

Given that Ryoki was something of a loose cannon, this was probably for the best. He might end up killing any other partner he got.

"Just gotta be all in the right motherfuckin' place at the right motherfuckin' time." Or ask around a lot. That probably worked just as well. Gamzee had just been lucky enough to hit it off with someone first. Maybe John would have the same sort of luck, given that the troll was pretty sure there were other people in the city who were nearly as empty-headed as he was.

Getting a weapon seemed like playing Russian Roulette, except instead of bullets, there were Weapons, and instead of Russian Roulette, it was Goldfish. And John was not very good at Goldfish. On one hand, he really wanted a weapon. On the other hand, he still really wanted a weapon, but it was starting to sound like he would need to wait until one came up to him and slotted themselves into his hand so he could chuck them around.

The ease of which he could see himself throwing Karkat at bowling pins was frightening.

"Yeah... Okay. I guess? I dunno, I mean... do you have one? And what are you supposed to like... do with them? Date them? I'm not really looking at getting married or anything anytime soon, except maybe I am, but the shipping diagram was very explicit except for the part where the drawings were really crappy." The drawings were really crappy.

Putting a finger to his lips, Gamzee answered further oncoming questions with a short series of "shoosh"es. His smile might have been a little condescending at this point, but the difference was subtle.

"Those are all things a brother should find out on his own. How all are you supposed to match up with your weapon right, if all the secrets have done been told you already?" Half the fun was learning all this yourself, or at least that's the way he saw it. He also figured that he could be here all day answering this kid's questions if he didn't put a stop to it right off. Gamzee just wasn't that helpful of a clown.

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[OPEN] June 2012 Intro Log

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