thearena | [backdated] The past comes back to haunt you...

What did he like about the title? What didn't he like? He's got desire to point out too, that what she describes could be considered something of a miracle, but he forgoes it to talk of what could have been.

"The Grand Highblood, wicked sister, is the highest of all trolls. THEY BE REVERED, FEARED, AND ALL RIGHTLY MOTHERFUCKING SO. The empress has her beast, she has her throne, but her business? NO, HER BUSINESS BE SPREAD ALL THE FUCK OUTWARD, SPACE-FARING. That who's really in motherfucking in charge, that who truly rules, who commands, WHO MOTHERFUCKING MAKES ALL TO STEER OUR EMPIRE PROPER, IS THE GRAND MOTHERFUCKING HIGHBLOOD. They be the one crowned conqueror, the winner of wars, the King, My sister. THE EMPIRE IS THEIRS AND THEY ARE THE MOTHERFUCKING EMPIRE, the ruling core of judgement come."

He breaks in his speach, but he doesn't stop. In his mind dance visions of the throne, the Carnival, the three rings and all the many rites preformed. He hears the scripture in his head.

"IT IS A TRADITION SPREAD ON TO THE ROOTS OR OUR EMPIRE'S VERY BIRTH. For millennia, there have been thrones two; one for the empress, on for the Highblood. THE HIGHBLOOD'S THRONE IS PAINTED IN THE COLOR OF THE LAST MADE DEAD. Their blood becomes your motherfucking blood, their bones, your bones. AS IS RITE IN THE FAMILY OF THE CARNIVAL. As is righteous. IF I WERE TO DIE AS HIGHBLOOD, I WOULD DIE ON THAT THRONE TO BLEED THE LAST OF MY SICKEST MIRACLE AND SO COMPLETE IT ALL." He says it like a promise. Like it is absolute that he'd have done no other thing in his old age. He says it like dying and bleeding out on a throne is something to aspire to.

"To be Highblood is to be the first laughssasin, to be Ring Master to the grand carnival, the subjugglator superlative. WHEN THE HIGHBLOOD SPEAKS, SISTER, ALL WHAT BE ABOUT MAKE SURE TO UP AND MOTHERFUCKING LISTEN AND HEAR. When the Highblood speaks, they speak with the voice of the Messiahs themselves. FOR ABOVE ALL THINGS, PYROPE, THE HIGHBLOOD IS A HOLY SERVANT. Not to the empress, don't let it be thought, but to the Holy Two. THEY SPEAK THROUGH AND INTO THE PAN SO THAT THEIR VOICES MAY BE HEARD, SO THAT SERMON CAN BE SUNG, PASSAGE AND PARABLE PREACHED. The Highblood must, at all costs, as high priest of the mirthful church, serve their motherfucking will."

His arms are spread out, hands gesturing with his words as he goes on, occasionally folding over his heart. His eyes are closed as he walks, imagining it all. He seems to either have forgotten that only a second before he had called her a heathen, and that she likely could care little, or else he was likewise failing to care in favor of going on about the position.

He looks at her finally, face grim and solemn then. "THE HOLY TWO HAVE SPOKEN TO ME," He confesses to her, with less enthusiasm, which itself is shortly explained. "I hear their voices ring. BUT I CANNOT SERVE THEIR WILL AS SO IT IS DESIRED. The Highblood must be able to cast aside all things, eschew all but thine wills of Mirthful. FOR IT IS THE HIGHBLOOD WHO IS CLOSEST TO THE MESSI--" He stops suddenly.

He stares off past her into the mass of wax statues, silent and wide-eyed.

Edited 2014-02-22 22:45 (UTC)

For the first time since she's been here, Terezi doesn't cut into his rambling with any scathing remarks or snide jokes. She listens to him express his desire for that illustrious title, even as it shifts to his religion and his beliefs. She listens, and... for once, she's not angry. Skeptical, sure. She'll never not be a skeptic. But there's passion in the way he talks, and it's... almost charming. He speaks well, she thinks--briefly, before tucking that thought away.

His topic shifts as he looks directly at her, and she tries not to look like she was intrigued by his voice. She'd never live it down, she's sure. He confesses these holy voices speaking to him, and she makes sure to show her usual amount of dry patience with the topic. She does note the way that he emphasizes the religious over the martial. His Messiahs over the Empress. That bit of favoritism is also tucked away to be looked over with curiosity later.

For now, she stops when he does, sniffs quizzically in his direction before turning her head to find out what he's staring at.

"What is it?"

He doesn't answer her. He doesn't seem to have heard her at all. In fact, he starts to move again and walks right past her, apparently entranced. He walks slow, as if he's not quite sure what he's seeing, or even where he's going. He walks like he's being tugged along on an invisible string.

When he stops at last, it is before a tiny green creature. Its bony thin limbs are hidden in the thick winter gear of the second arena. The tribute's head strongly resembles a skull, thin reptilian flesh being the only thing keeping it from being exactly that. The tribute's cheekbones protrude outward, marked with bright interlocked green and red spirals. The glass eyes are large and bright, colored in the same hues as the marks; lime green on one side, mutant red on the other. The plaque reads, Calliope and Caliborn, with little more after that save the arena they were in and the time they died. The Initiate stares down, near three feet taller than the skull child (children).

He looks wide-eyed, confused, like he might be unsure if he could believe what he's seeing if he only knew what it was that he was seeing. He feels breathless and he doesn't know why. He is on the brink of some edge of motherfucking discovery but there's a blank space there. A wall.

His hand reaches up, shaking almost imperceptibly in the air as he goes to touch the wax child's face, before snapping his hand back as if it were singed. He keeps staring.

Terezi follows after the Initiate, her concern mounting as he continues to walk and doesn't seem to be answering her. She doesn't know where he's going or what he's seen, but she assumes that it must be this child, when he stops in front of it and just keeps staring.

He nearly touches the thing before drawing back quickly, and Terezi frowns in response. "Hey... Fraysong?" she says quietly, stepping a little closer. After a moment, she reaches out to touch his arm as lightly as she can, hoping that might get his attention. "...Makara?"

He jerks and turns to her, wide eyed only just realising she was there. He glances back and forth between the green child and her, like they couldn't possibly be in the same place at the same time. He shakes his head roughly. He holds a hand to his face as he closes his eyes and tries to refocus himself.

When he looks again, he expects... well, he expects at least one of them not to be there. But there they both are still. His brow furrows deeper.

Hesitantly, he asks her, "Does this... does this seem like to be... motherfucking familiar?" That ain't the word he's looking for. But hell, he isn't sure what it is that he is looking for.

Terezi shakes her head slowly at first, then pauses to take a closer sniff at the statue. It's pretty safe to say the she doesn't recognize the creature. She would have remembered something as strange as this...

"No, not at all." She turns her attention back to him, giving him a curious--and mildly concerned--look. "Why? Are they familiar to you?"

"I..." Are they familiar to him? He's never seen this...these...whatever it is, he's never laid eyes on it in his life. But that's not what she asked.

"I DON'T KNOW. I ain't all being sure. THERE'S SOMETHING ALL... I should know. I should all know at who these be. BUT..."

The wax child stares through him, unseeing and un-answering. His fingers graze the air before the spiralling marks on the child's cheeks.

"I've seen these. IN THAT WHAT ALL BE VISION AND DREAM..."

He shakes his head again and takes a step back.

Terezi's not sure that she likes the way that he stares like he's transfixed on the statues. It's weird and sort of creepy... and it leaves her wondering if she should know who this is. Which only makes it creepier yet.

"What do you mean vision and dream?"

He covers his eyes with his hand, shutting off vision to try and pull more at slippery memory.

"They speak, the Messiahs. I TOLD YOU DIDN'T I? They speak and... and so all do the scriptures have at for their word..." He says.

He wonders for a second if it's not real. Maybe he's imagining it. But no, she clearly sees it. Or smells it rather.

He kneels down to the ground, and smears the blood off the side of his face, then on the ground, draws the spiral before the feet of the wax statue. "THIS," He says. "It's not like to be anything it's just motherfucking there. WHEN ALL HE SLEEPS. When the voodoo takes and the Messiahs speak loud. I'VE MARKED THIS ON WALL A HUNDRED TIMES."

There's something deeply, innately, not right about this all. Something that makes the core of him feel thrown off balance. He rises back up to his feet.

Finally, he says, "...We should go."

A spiral mark... It's a really generic shape, not inherently belonging to anything, but he acts like it's important. That there are spiral marks on the strange alien's face. She has to wonder if maybe he's reading too much into it... But she doesn't question him.

She almost agrees to go with him, but suddenly, she remembers that she's not alone. "Actually... I should get back, before the rest of my party starts missing me." Before they come looking for her and run into Fraysong instead.

Inexpliccably, he's almost... hurt, for a moment. Like he's scared her off. Like it's such a big motherfucking deal up in the arena. She needs to go back to her group. Right.

"AIGHT," He says, nodding, trying to collect himself. He looks up around. "Last all he checked ain't weren't being none too near. YOUR PATH SHOULD BE CLEAR."

Edited 2014-03-25 01:32 (UTC)

She catches that, just for a moment. And just for a moment, she feels like she's abandoning him. She hesitates, not turning to go just yet.

She knows it's been a few weeks already. Things are starting to wind closer to the end. It means that skirting the death of her teammates is going to be harder and harder to avoid, if it ends up being avoidable at all. She protect them all. Eventually, there is going to be blood on her hands. She is going to have to let someone die.

"Wait," she says, trying not to sound too guilty. "...Can you wait around here? Only for a few hours." A few hours. Just enough time to head back and suggest making camp. Enough time to pack up the things she needs, unpack the things she doesn't need, and to slip out of camp before the others wake. Enough time to stifle the guilt she's already feeling for abandoning them. Enough time to appreciate the relief at not having to choose when and how they die.

"I'll come back here, and then we can leave."

Edited 2014-03-25 01:59 (UTC)

Wait, she says. He stops and straightens on her word. He doesn't question, but she explains anyway. He tries not to look too surprised that she wants to come back. He tries not to let his lips tug up just that little bit.

He nods again. "He can wait. SHOULD HE BE MAKING TO FIND HIDING? Think at he saw some vents all on around by."

He doesn't need to hide truly, for he know he could take whoever it may be. But rather, she might not like that. The suggestion still comes off as half-joking.

Terezi instantly wrinkles her nose at the suggestion. "No. Just... stay out of sight. No vents. I've had enough with clowns and vents."

More than enough. She shoves that mental picture aside with great force, instead trying to focus on the now.

"They shouldn't come over this way. I'll keep them away."

He laughs in surprise. She's clearly had experience with all this, meaning this is something what all his descendent has actually done, or at least talked of doing. He knows she hates him so he turns his head to hide his amusement.

He says, "HE'LL SEE YOU THEN SISTER." And waves as he heads off.

[backdated] The past comes back to haunt you...

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