[OPEN] i'm already fighting me, so what's another one

[69problems]

Who | Signless and Guy, Signless and OPEN (including those I had plans with), and finally Signless and Sabriel
What | A whole lot of murders, including of a fake family member, and a troll who is very much not himself.
Where | In the streets.
When | Right now!
Warning/Notes | Blood, violence, death. Language. Lots of it.

For Guy:

Ever since she had walked out of the fog, the Signless had stayed close to his mother. She was just as he remembered: tall and beautiful and quiet, and he was already having so much trouble telling reality from fiction thanks to the poison eating away at his mind that it was just easier to accept her without question. She wasn't talkative and she wasn't terribly helpful but her presence was comforting all the same, even if the white glow of her skin cut through the fog in a way that made them obvious targets.

That white glow would probably be the first thing Guy noticed, bobbing wildly as though someone was tossing around a jar of fireflies. Then, the shouting and the hissing and the sound of tearing fabric. It had happened so quickly: one moment she'd been trailing behind him quietly like she had for the past few days, and the next she'd been lunging for his neck -- and her fangs were sharper than his ever would be even with Capitol intervention. Luckily he'd been jumpy enough to respond with a good swing of his crowbar. Unfortunately that hadn't been enough to down her, and she had height and weight on her side.

"Fuck, fuck, get back, you crazy bitch!"

For Everyone:

His restlessness had only gotten worse as the arena's gone on, which meant he was back to wandering the streets. He'd started to think of these streets as his, particularly the same general block of houses he tended to keep circling, and every time he found someone wandering into the area his first reaction was outrage that they were stepping into his space. At this point, that outrage was accompanied by a raised crowbar; he'd lost his knife, but he'd found a longer weapon he could use as a bludgeon was more expedient in getting his point across to tributes and monsters alike anyway.

He spotted movement by one of the houses and snarled, showing off that missing tooth.

"Fuck off!"

Hopefully that was all the warning they'd need. Otherwise, he'd have to force them out.

For Sabriel:

The Signless wasn't in good shape by the time Sabriel happened to wander into his little block of houses. Between fights with other tributes and forcing out the occasional arena monster, he was tired and bloody and still somehow gnawingly hungry despite his steady diet of bugs. She didn't even get a warning shout, just a loud insectoid hiss and a crowbar swinging toward her head.

Comments

[carnagecarnival]

He ain't even surprised it's thrown back in his face. Not a single evincing of surprise.

He's a leaning in to this, where if Signless had the horns for it, both of theirs would be locked together, twisting to turn and drag the other to the ground, or better yet, snap the neck.

"I WON'T LIE," He snarls. "Won't make to have no fallacy spill of this flap of motherfucking mine. AIN'T TO PREACH NO DECEPTIONS JUST CAUSE ALL YOU MOTHERFUCKING WANT ME TO. One, made all on the speaking of your own fuckveined self like you didn't want to cull. SAID YOU WOULDN'T MAKE TO HURT, MOTHERFUCKER. And look at you. YOU'RE JUST LIKE US ALL, A REGULAR MOTHERFUCKING TROLL, BROTHER! A regular backstabbing, lying, traitorous fucker in want of the next spill, no mercy, no regret, no sorriness up ins like us all what they brought here get fooling ourselves we can be enough, as we all are. HOW DOES IT FUCKING FEEL TO NOT BE A FREAK!?"

He says the word 'brother' like a curse. He gives a rough shove on his last words.

[69problems]

He knows exactly what this is about. He knows and it pushes him right back around into that blinding, shrieking rage. The shove barely phases him: he stumbles backward, finds his feet, reels forward again to shove right back.

"He asked me to, you panfucked scum, he was dying and it was a mercy and I made for damn sure he wanted it! Because after you fucking stole him from me that was all I had left to give him. I regret it every fucking day because you couldn't just take one moirail from me, you had to try and take all three, you selfish piece of shit! For months I had no one because everyone I pitied wanted nothing to do with me, because of you! Fuck you! FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK! YOU! YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO'S EVER FELT PAIN, YOU SELF-ABSORBED HYPOCRITICAL FUCK! You have no idea how much I regret, how sorry I am for so much shit I've done, and every time I've tried to tell you YOU'VE JUST DECIDED I WAS LYING!"

He stares at the Initiate, wild-eyed, breathing hard. His crowbar is by his foot. It's so hard not to pick it up, not to attack, not to take out all this rage and hurt in a way he knows would be so much more satisfying.

"What the fuck do you want from me? I wanted to fix this shit, I wanted to hope you were still good somewhere deep down under what you are now, or else he wouldn't have cared for you so deeply. He wouldn't have abandoned me if you weren't worth it."

For the first time his voice wavers, just a little.

[carnagecarnival]

Kankri trying to get his shove on of him is a joke. It's like a beast of flight beating on stone, a squeakbeast spinning round and round in futile circles what means it's pandead and desperate to escape. The merciful thing is to end it.

"Ha." He sounds dead. It's a dead laugh. "HA! He's a selfish piece of shit. SELF-ABSORBED. Hypocrtical. THAT MOTHERFUCKING SO?" He is so... so mother fucking... angry. It's almost funny, in the face of him, The Signless, who burns and burns and burns up inside with his cold fury totally new to him, trying to even compare to his ownself who is frozen cracking bleeding flesh with a white hot sun swallowed inside perpetual. It's hilarious how all the control was his for a moment... then gone. So easily let to slip, ants all gone a scurry in the face of his own work. So unsurprising.

The Initiate steps off from the plane of quick snapping and boyish, foolish reaction, of hurt. Something clicks, something sharp, like a blade coming free, and he steps into the skin of the Highblood instead. His lips curl up into a smile, head tilting with it.

"Brother best..." He says, real slow. He pushes out that old name. That old calling. He strangles it of its meaning. "DON'T YOU KNOW THE MOTHERFUCKING SWING OF YOUR SLING? Don't you got an idea... in the sad, sorry, crackcrunched deficiency of your nug... WHAT YOU GET YOUR POISONPREACH SOUNDING ON LIKE?"

He is not beneath taking advantage of a weakness and so he does. He lunges forward (despite the scream of his body protesting), hooking the pick axe behind the Signless's ankles and pulling. He reaches for the crowbar and makes to toss it aside while the fucker is downed. And yeah, it will make for more rage but he ain't exactly seeking to pacify. He grabs Signless by the collar this time and hauls him back to his feet. (And debates pulling him off them.) He hangs on and his pick axe does not fall low this time, staying level with threat.

"All for the reaching and wanting, the willing and hopes. BUT YOU ARE MOTHERFUCKING IGNORANT FOR ALL YOUR TRYING," He snarls. "He didn't abandon you. HE WAS TORTURED FOR A THOUSAND SWEEPS, WITH YOUR HERETICAL CAUSE IN HIS MIND, YOUR FUCKING DEATH, AND YOU WONDER WHY HE WOULD ALL WANT NOT TO BEAR WITNESS TO YOUR GHOST? You're lucky, Sufferer, that you didn't have to go through what he did. YOU'RE LUCKY HE HAD ANYTHING LEFT UP IN HIM TO REMEMBER YOUR HEATHEN FUCKING FACE! He was the one abandoned. HE WAS THE ONE HURT."

The Highblood would never give a damn. The Highblood let him die. He let him die. He knows there's a dissonance he feels it like the crack of glass, bracing.

"He came to me willing. WILLING, KNOWING, AND MOTHERFUCKING CHOSING THIS BROTHER HERE! He wasn't yours anymore, not to touch, not to have, not to cull. DID YOU TRULY MOTHERFUCKING THINK AN INITIATE'D PRESCRIBE TO ANY OTHER ACTION? Did you honestly believe, after all everything between the three of us all, after you broke your own most sacred and precious vow what I know you had left, that I wouldn't up and think you just wanted to see a Highblood squirm? THAT AFTER THE DOING OF SUCH, THE DEATH OF MY MOIRAIL, THAT I WOULD GET MY LISTEN ON TO ANYONE? I don't have three fucking moirails and your family, and all whatever the fuck else, Signless, I had him and he had me and we had each other after we got on trying to move the fuck on from you. A MOTHERFUCKER ALL GOT HIS CLAWS IN SO DAMN DEEP HE AIN'T REALISING HE'S GOT FOR THEM NO MORE. And don't think I don't motherfucking know who's name he called, before you got his 'permission'. DON'T TRY AND PRETEND YOU AIN'T KNOWING WHAT HE WANTED FIRST."

He imagines Signless flat downed again. He imagines stepping down on his throat. He imagines not caring. It's so clear, so vivid. Crick-crack-crick.

He tightens his grip. Gets that collar pulled real tight. Like he could lift Signless off his feet if he wanted. Hold him at a distance to let the motherfucking try clawing his arm up so as to be making outs what ain't happening.

"But you know in all that, in all everything, he never ever laid curse on you in front of me?" He says, near-soft. "AND I HELD HIM WHEN ALL HE HAD DAYMARE OF THE HELM AND OF YOU. I held him when he had daymare of me. IF HE ASKED ME TO KNEEL BEFORE HIM AND BURN THIS WORLD TO ASH, I WOULD KNEEL AND TEAR THIS WHOLE UNIVERSE TO THE MOST IRREPARABLE WASTE PUSTULE THIS SIDE OF WHAT THE FUCK HOLDS OUR WORLDS MULTIPLE. If he had just spit in my face, wished me dead, I would bear my throat to him. AND IF HE ASKED OF THIS MOTHERFUCKER TO DO IT HIS OWN SELF I WOULD TURN MY OWN CASING INSIDE THE FUCK OUT FOR HIM AND I. Would mother. FUCKING. Die for him. WHATEVER HE ASKED OF ME. And you should've done what he asked of you and given him a damn minute to heal from the wound what got left of you. USED TO BE GOOD AT TENDING WOUNDS. He remembers."

He starts leaning down. He gets himself closer and he forgot about his leg all broken, but he remembers for a short split second. It inspires. Snap-crunch-crack.

"GONNA GET ALL ABOUT SPILLING A SECRET TO YOU NOW. Gonna share a blessed gift like the hue run sick," He says. He's been talking a long as time, all gone to preaching, but he ain't stopping now. "I WAS ALWAYS WHAT I AM. I ain't changed. I JUST GOT BETTER AT BEING. My hive was beautiful long before you. EVERY TIME SOME FUCKER CAME AFTER ME, I MADE SURE NOT TO WASTE. Made me sad you see, brother, made me get my sadness on real sharp, just seeing them corpses laying there like nothings. ALL THE HARD WORK MUTUAL PUT TO WASTE JUST SO I COULD LIVE. So I honored them and I honored me. AND ALL THOSE FUCKERS WHAT TRIED TO HURT AND CULL, STARTED PROTECTING ME. They made people afraid and they made me strong. THROUGH THEM I COULD REACH THE MESSIAHS, THROUGH ME THE MESSIAHS COULD BE REACHED. And I tried so hard not to let you see what I already was." He shakes his head, chuckling. "I DID EVERYTHING I COULD TO KEEP YOU NEAR TO ME. There was never any kindness in me. THERE HAS NEVER BEEN ANY GOOD IN THIS HUSK OF ME AND MOTHERFUCKING MINE. I found it in you. SO WHEN YOU LEFT, WHEN THERE WASN'T BEING A SINGLE MOTHERFUCKING SOUL LEFT... It wasn't there to be turn-stone uncovered. AND I WENT BACK BEING WHAT I'D ALWAYS BEEN AND WAS ALWAYS MEANT TO MOTHERFUCKING BE DESTINED. Until I found that pretty little thing again in him. AND I FOUND IT SPARKING IN HER. And then more and more and it just kept growing, so beautiful and miraculous, all them pretty, bitty, precious little people. AND NOW. And motherfucking now. YOU'RE LEFT IN THE PITCH RACKING PAN OF WHY, STUMBLING FOR SOME SIGN YOU CAN'T UP AND SEE. But are you not alive still? CAN YOU IMAGINE, FOR JUST A MOTHERFUCKING MOMENT, WHAT I WOULD HAVE DONE IF I'D NEEDED TO CULL YOUR ASS AS BEING PART OF EMPIRICAL DUTY RIGHT NOW? I bet you know how I cull you too. MAYBE, JUST MOTHERFUCKING MAYBE, THE PIECE WHAT YOU SEEK AIN'T DEAD. I'll set square one now, motherfucker, and I ain't want to give to you what has given nothing to me. I AIN'T DIGGING UP NO GOODS FOR YOU NO MORE. But I will... for them."

Snap. Shatter. Break. The blade sheaths. He's been spinning dizzy this whole arena between what he's been made into and what's been running in his blood and all the broken bits up in between the two. It all shatters and it all falls exactly where it's got to, fitting neat for a short moment. It sends a shudder through him. He feels... calm. He knows this won't last. It's a false calm.

"AS FOR WHAT HE WANTS IT HAS BEEN PREACHED REPEATED NOW, IF YOU WOULD JUST HEAR FOR IT. Let me go. LEAVE ME BE. Signless. KANKRI. My ghost. MY CURSE. Oh, brother best... I just want to forget you."

[69problems]

He knows it's true, deep down. He knows they both suffered so much worse than he ever has, he knows that his hurt isn't comparable to sweeps of complete isolation or life attached to the rig. But he can't pity them. They don't want his pity.

He knows the Helmsman went willingly, knows how happy they were, and that's what rankles. That they're happy. That his Mituna doesn't need him anymore, that whatever chance he might have had at ever repairing their relationship is ruined because by the time Mituna was more himself again there was already an immovable indigo-shaped wall between them.

Under all his anger he knows it's petty jealousy, knows he should ignore it, but in the state he's in now all his bitterness and jealousy has bubbled up and burns behind his eyes and whispers lies in his ears. Of course the Initiate wants to forget him. He wants to cut him out of everything, wants to render him mute and invisible and alone, wants to encase him in glass and make him watch as everyone else is happy without him.

He can't even respond with words. Instead he gives a snarl and lunges forward, trying to bite, to claw, to inflict even a little bit of damage, to push and push and push until the Initiate is out of his territory and out of his head and out of his life.

[carnagecarnival]

He's come back down planetside just enough to recall this ain't typical. This isn't the sort of reaction Kankri motherfucking Vantas gets about himself to have. Signless is all gone pan-poisoned slip-nugged. He doesn't know how or why or what the fuck.

But he sure as shit knows a quick solution to this sort of rage.

He pulls The Signless right close, brings his head back and slams it forward against the Signless, making a sharp crack of a sound. And he knows it will work good because even he is seeing stars.

Or he hopes it does anyway.

[69problems]

Sure enough the Signless goes limp, dazed, his vision still red but now more blurry than anything else. If it weren't for the Initiate's hands still on him he'd probably be on the ground.

He hisses, but now it sounds more confused than angry, like he just figures it's what he ought to be doing. At any rate, he's no threat now, or he won't be until he recovers himself a little.

[carnagecarnival]

The Initiate has a moment of Dilemma. He can't put the fucker in a tree, he could fall out. Leaving him on the ground is a way to die. But damn he does not want to search a whole hive, stairs and all, with a broken leg just for this asshole.

(The second thing is figuring out how he's going to resist writing something across the mutant's forehead.)

He narrows his eyes and drags the Signless to the nearest porch, so at least if anything comes, the wood will creak. It will be warning enough. He picks the crowbar up, tosses it to the mutant's side. Then, he goes to pick Gamzee back up, still just right where he left him, still blank faced. The Initiate leaves his one childhood friend behind in search of some new place of rest.