thearena | Mini Arena 2

Dennet wouldn't be guessing wrong on either point. Violence and mental stability being as they are.

He starts to walk forward, sloshing through the water. He ain't going to wait no more and he explains the why of it low tones, "All likelihood up and being, we are going to die, brother." So optimistic is he.

He turns to Dennet, the yellow sclera and indigo-grey iris glowing in the dark. His eyes are wide. "BUT DROWNING BE A THING I AIN'T WANT TO DO. Up to you motherfucker. WHERE ALL YOU WANT AS TO PLACE BETS?"

It begins to seem to Dennett that being a little mentally unstable might be a benefit here.

"If we're going to die, why can't we at least choose to die for something?" He's no Sylvester Stallone: it probably comes out as more of a question than a statement of machismo.

"They say drowning is kind of peaceful, at least. Eaten by a shark....or rats...?" He can't believe he's even trying to rationalize this. But he's following, clutching his knife. "I think if I tried to attack a shark I'd just make it angry."

"There is no peace what to be found of drowning," He says, sudden and cold. He makes sure to look Dennet dead in the eyes as he says such. All up inside be a refusal absolute to such an idea, a knowledge of what it really makes to mean. He remembers clear, all them times he tried to swim after the old goat into furious ocean. All them times when a seadweller went about reminding him he wasn't one. The feeling watching helpless from Capitol as Terezi drowned in arena. The way she looked after... "AIN'T DROWNING HERE," He says firm. Absolute refusal.

"Just stay behind this motherfucker. HE CAN GET US BOTH ON THROUGH." Because now, by this point, he was practically responsible. He starts trudging forward once more.

"And don't make no statements being like that. LEST YOU'D RATHER DIE FOR SOMETHING THAN BE AS TO GET ALL BROUGHT TO LAND OF LIVING. They will leave you dead they up and will, motherfucker."

"Well...in theory that's what they say it is like." Dennett has no experience in drowning. Yet.

"A-all right. We'll figure out a way." Cushions, like he'd suggested to that young woman--who had stabbed him. So he's not going to suggest THAT again. He sloshes through the water after the stranger, trying not to notice how it's risen and definitely trying not to think about all the probable bacteria floating in it. Giardia, to say the least.

"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad, really." Uh oh, glum doctor. "A-and I do have a name. It's not, erm, motherffff--that word."

Bacteria in an arena such as this would likely be the least of anyone's problems. Nothing here capitol or death couldn't put stopping on.

"OH FUCK NO, MOTHERFUCKER, DON'T YOU BE BEING AS TO START, AIN'T STOPPING YOUR GODDAMN SUICIDE IF THAT BE WHAT YOU WANT," He warns right off the bat, shooting a stern look back. He better not be left dead with this fucker for this. He swore long ago to never ~~again think to~~ waste the Messiahs gift. He turns back, trudging forward and eyeing the water close for movement. He reminds himself it ain't going to be no seadweller grabbing his ankle and pulling him under.

It don't help much.

"He knows you got for a name. HE ALSO GETS AS TO CALLING EVERYONE SUCH THINGS. It ain't meaning nothing like as what it does to your kind. AN INDIGO THING IS WHAT IT BE, AIGHT?"

If Dennett were thinking clearly, he'd realize the likelihood of dying from bacteria instead of, say, being eaten by rats or sharks or stabbed in the eye by sweet-seeming ladies is slim to none. Especially with an open wound.

That's not a very helpful line of thought.

"I...I wouldn't!" Mostly because he may be having a Moment, but Dennett is a coward in that sense. He always wants to hope that things will get better.

It's just really hard to believe with water rising over your shins.

"A-All right." Just don't claw him. He's fragile. "I guess I don't know about, uh, indigo things." Indigo's a color, right?

Indigo is a color. A blood color, one of twevle, thirteen if one went for technicality. Each one dividing into caste groups then delving into patterns and dialects and--

"Type of troll," He says. "HIS KIND ALL BEING OF SPECIFICS DONE."

He trudges deeper into the rising water, knowing it to be all kinds of dangerous but not knowing no other way. The water is cold which, with how cold his blood is natural, is all kinds of indicative. It ain't enough to draw a shiver from him, but from others certainly.

"...And good," He adds to the note of the other topic. "A WASTE OF MESSIAHS' GIFTS TO BE OF TOSSING TRASHING UNWANTED."

He wonders if it be deep enough to swim. He ain't want to try yet.

Perhaps it's best Dennett doesn't find that out, because he might need to take a closer look. But he's heard about trolls from Anna. How many worlds have trolls?

"So you do love magic?" Excuse Dennett for having an opinion here, but you don't quite seem like the type.

Dennett will do the shivering for him, though, because that water is cold and closely approaching the Norton family jewels. He does not look forward to that. "I think it's a waste to be killing each other, too, though."

Initiate not the type to like magic? Well thinking that Dennet would be completely, absolutely

dead motherfucking wrong.

Now here's a topic what all he's being all the fuck about! "Do I motherfucking got as a love for magic?" He repeats, actually grinning back. "FUCK YEAH, I MOTHERFUCKING DO, YOU BET YOUR GODDAMN ASS. I'm being getting as all up over that wicked shit up in my believings mine. MAGIC AND MIRACLES BE ALL UP IN THE WICKED WONDERS OURS BEING AROUND. The miracles what as Messiahs is being at to motherfucking bestow." His hands fold into that of prayer-- it ain't like they don't need it-- and his eyes close for a second in love of his gods.

That's right, motherfucker. That psycho leading you on is gigantic faith junkie.

"IT AIN'T A WASTE BEING AS TO GO FOR THE CULL. It is a fight as to live, that. IT IS AN HONOR TO THEY AND A GIVING OF STRENGTH TO ONE ANOTHER. It ain't the dying part what's bad it's the how the fuck a motherfucker is being as to do it, you dig?" He sounds joyous, almost. A great contrast to what he was moments before.

Edited 2014-08-26 01:53 (UTC)

Dennett should get used to being wrong. It's still a little, well, new.

It takes him probably almost a minute--while the other prays--to try to untangle all those expressions. He's an old man, the kind who's not quite sure what 'lol' means. "I. Uh, I'm sorry. I've never met a troll before. The magic kind or, well, any other kind." If there's another kind. He just thought you were a little strangely dressed, that's all.

"I'm not sure, I, uh, 'dig'. I haven't killed anyone here. Yet." And he's hoping to keep it that way but he's a little fuzzy on the 'how' of that.

It would be an impressive costume if such were the case, but no, he is very much the real deal.

"HA, IT BE GOOD YOU AIN'T NEVER! If you'd got meet on a troll before the coming to here, he ain't so certain you'd be alive." Conquering alien species. Sorry, brother, ain't no hard feeling.

"I AIN'T DO MAGIC PROPER. This motherfucker just be as to be holding by Messiahs' wills. JUST AS THEY WILL MAKE AS FOR THE WILL A KILL DOES OR DOES NOT COME. Some motherfuckers go on as without easy. SOME IS JUST BEING AS TO FOOLING THEIR OWN MOTHERFUCKING SELVES. But it's being like this, aight?" He says and he starts to explain. He speaks with hand gestures and, occasionally, he offers a glance back. "YOU GET ON AS FOR SLEEP AND AIN'T WAKE. Was death so bad then? IS IT SO TERRIBLE TO PASS TO SHANGRI-LA? Naw. YOU GET AS BEING GUTTED AND SPLIT MOTHERFUCKING CROSSWAYS. Death comes and the pain makes as to cease. DEATH AIN'T BAD, IT IS BEING HOW IT'S GOTTEN DONE. You feel me yet?"

"Oh?" Well, he's going to file that away and edge a little farther out of range. "Anna--she was a little girl, well, a young lady, but she said trolls were...nice." Well, not exactly, but she hadn't made them sound malevolent.

It takes him another minute of sloshing through the flooding decks to parse that, but he...thinks he's got it. "You're right. Death isn't the hard part. Everyone does it, eventually. It's just...it's supposed to mean something. It's supposed to be significant, personal. Not...not...some spectacle for people's entertainment!"

"THAT AIN'T GOT NONE TO DO WITH IT. How many motherfuckers you got know on dying who got being dying exactly how as they was wanting? SHIT'S RARE FOR REASON, MOTHERFUCKER. No one wants to be being a forgotten motherfucking cull. THAT DON'T MEAN NONE EVER BEING IS."

He shrugs. "Messiahs give meanings as for how such be to the Carnival gates and greet of the ticket taker. BEST NOT TO BE AS THINKING ON THEM STEPS AS WHAT'S TO IT. Besides, we ain't truly die. JUST FEELS LIKE IT, MISSING THE GOOD PART. You play the game being right, you can wake the fuck up." How fucking weird was that? He was being use to dying. He could tell the way it felt, like the soul got on slipping away and yet he knows whatever it is they got done, his soul's never managed to leave entire, never gotten to go where he knows it's like as meant to go. He doesn't like that implication. They shouldn't be anywhere near touching his spiritghost.

"I AIN'T NEVER MET NO MOTHERFUCKING 'ANNA'," He says with raised brow. "Can say certain she's being wrong or all kinds being of confusion. MY KIND AIN'T NICE. Lest she's meaning on Beforan trolls, but them motherfuckers... only being one here current. THEM OTHER ALTERNIANS HERE BE ANOMALIES."

He gives a bitter laugh. "I can tell you my death here wasn't what I'd wanted." Who wants to be stabbed in the eye? Not this nerd!

"But isn't that torture, then? If we just...don't die, but go unconscious or something," It sure felt like dying, if you ask him but he's not inclined to argue with a profanity-yelling troll. "I mean, how do you do it? Do you embrace it? Do you just...not mind?" Asking for a friend. Okay, no, himself.

"Anna. She's slight and blonde and...oh. Well, perhaps there are other kinds of trolls, too?" Sure, Dennett, if you accept there's one world with magical trolls, you can't refuse to accept there might be two.

Is this torture? He actually pauses for a second, head tilting up.

"Yeah, motherfucker, I guess it being is," He says, like it's a casual 'huh, didn't think of that'. "GOT SAY ON WRONG. It ain't like we don't die. BUT IT AIN'T A PROPER FULL DEATH. We ain't move on. WE'RE BEING ALL DAYWALKER TYPES BUT AIN'T NONE OF US ROTTING AND OUR PANS AIN'T GONE OF FUNCTION LOST. And most of us ain't eat nobody, far as this motherfucker's to be knowing."

He puts more ponder to it all. Then shrugs. "HE AIN'T THINK ON IT SO DAMN MUCH. Just go onwards trying to be about living until such as it gets happenstance. THEN YOU JUST GET TO MOTHERFUCKING GO, AIN'T NO THINKING AFTER. Wake up and move the fuck on, one way or other. AIN'T COZY OR NONE, BUT WOULDN'T HARDLY BE STRONG IF ALL SUCH THINGS NEVER CAME TO BE, RIGHT?" He's from a war society. He's been through worse. He doesn't know that he shouldn't be reacting different. Death was death. It wasn't that he didn't mind, just... what could be done? He ain't accepting that getting complain on about it changed it. He knows for a fact such things is just asking for something what hurts more.

One thing he's being sure on is that he definitely ain't know no Anna. He'll have to keep an eye out. "Other kinds of trolls... well, I fuckin guess, there's being tons all of you humans up varying. WOULDN'T BE IMPOSSIBLE NONE." Most likely though, he'd bet as she's being confused. "But the only ones what be here are his kind. ONLY BEING OF HIS WORLD AND HIS WORLD'S ITERATION PRIORDONE."

Daywalkers. Isn't that one of those newfangled terms for, well, vampires? Dennett pauses to look down at himself, as best he can in the dim emergency lighting.

"Well, I sure don't!" Though he's going to side-eye the meat in the cafeteria from now on. Because what do they do with the dead bodies?

"But is strong all there is? I mean, surely there's, I don't know, love, compassion, happiness?" Surely more important than stabbing a stranger in the face.

"Iteration? What's that mean. I mean, I know the word, but...how can a world be prior?" He thought he had the trick of his speech, but that just flummoxes him.

Rainbowdrinkers for vampires. Daywalkers for zombies. Shadowdroppers... no one talks about shadowdroppers.

He smirks a little back at Dennet. "Of course you don't but that ain't mean no other motherfucker here's ain't never done," He says wry. Like the actual daywalkers what were here. Or Kevin.

"OF COURSE STRONG AIN'T BEING ALL THERE IS BUT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO WITHOUT IT? Expect all everybody not to cull your weak ass out of love, compassion, and happiness? DO YOU FEEL THE FUCKING LOVE RIGHT NOW, MOTHERFUCKER? Look at where you is. NAW, BROTHER. Happiness be a thing you can do, but pity and compassion's for red quadrants not strifing. IT SURE AS SHIT AIN'T GOING AS TO SAVE YOUR CORPSE FROM THE CULL INEVITABLE." Mirth. Humans. Pacifists, rather.

He turns away. "And I ain't know what it means exact, aight? ONLY OF ARRIVALS HERELIKE DIDST A BROTHER BE OF GETTING A KNOW ON. It's like how as they reset you after dying here. BUT ALL DIFFERENT AS TO BE THE WHOLE OF MOTHERFUCKING EXISTENCE LIVING DONE IN THE UNIVERSE. Everyone hatched on of the souls what as was before, just living different. PLANET'S THE SAME, BUT NEW. Some of us got switched up and around but it ain't matter. WE AIN'T REMEMBER UP AT ALL, JUST GOT MEETING ALTERNATES HERE. You get me?" Strangely, those last words come out quiet. He ain't forgotten Kurloz. His alternate is here, around, somewhere... if he ain't dead. He wonders how that fucker would think on this, but his mute other self was always hard to parse.

"I begin to think you enjoy upsetting me," he says, dryly. Because, well, he does it so well. Or maybe Dennett really is that easily flustered.

"But I don't want to--I'm not sure I can kill someone. Maybe that means I am weak, but it's against everything I've worked for, my whole life."

But yes, he can't refute the whole 'it's not going to save you' thing.

"So, like some kind of alternate universe or something?" So...he comes from a science fiction novel. Okay....

Wouldn't you be one to talk, Dennet.

"NO. Maybe... IT'S MORE THAN THAT, AIGHT? It's being the same it just... ended." Did it still count as alternate if it was a one-two progression? "THERE WAS A THING WHAT GOT NEED TO BE DONE AND COULDN'T. Got to failing and everything started over as by Messiahs' wills. EVERYTHING DIED. Everything got coming back differentlike." It wasn't technically his fault, he knows, but he can't shake it. It'd been his past self unremembered.

"AIN'T NONE OF THAT SHIT'S GOT OF MOTHERFUCKING IMPORTANCE. And if as he did enjoy such miseries bestowed, he wouldn't be apt to speaking no less of truthiness unto thee. AIN'T OF SUGGEST HE IS. But if you ain't want to up and motherfucking kill then..." He huffs, rolling his eyes, "...don't. AIN'T SAYING YOU CAN'T MOTHERFUCKING NOT. But at least as be about protecting your own damn self and keeping trap shut about such things so ain't no one else shot the fuck down for your making speech."

The water is getting real high, just around this corner he hopes there's something, a way out. He goes and... he thinks he sees brightness, which means a way up perhaps or hallway full of rainbowdrinkers and their motherfucking dayglow. Mirth he hopes not the latter.

"So like, the Apocalypse? The Flood? Some sort of divine re-set button on the whole universe?" He's trying to understand. It sounds...Biblical.

"N-no. I'm not suggesting you enjoy anything." Especially not killing people, especially not while you're standing next to a very killable person. "I just, where I'm from, they don't kill you just for speaking. You actually have to do something." Wait. Is he drawing a line of being a wuss?

Sure seems like it.

Dennett sloshes awkwardly, the leather-soled shoes they gave him with his tuxedo slipping on the deck as he tries to follow. "Please may there not be sharks," he mutters. Please.

"YES!" He says, a hand going up, all tone saying the mark has been met. What Dennet thinks of biblical ain't being so far off entirely. "The end of motherfucking times. THE RECKONING BEING AS TO RAIN FOR THE ROWDY MOTHERFUCKING RAUCOUS. The death of one leading as to the creation of another." Exactly it. It is such a thing so believable as how Messiahs would will it.

"BUT THAT BE THE MOTHERFUCKING THING, MOTHERFUCKER! You ain't being where you're from. YOU CAN'T GO BY WHAT MOTHERFUCKING RULES AS YOU KNEW. Adapt and survive, you get it through your nugbone, aight?" Mirth he hopes he can get this through. "AND DON'T WORRY NONE ABOUT SHARK, I MOTHERFUCKING GOT THIS."

But just for that, he scans the water a little closer, trying to get a better picture of what lay underneath. It's all turbulent and unclear but, he can only try.

"We...always talked about it, but almost like it was a myth. God, the end of days, all of that. Maybe we thought if he was going to pull the plug, he should have done it a few years ago." Wow, Dennett Norton, amateur nihilist. "Is, I mean, is the second world better?"

He'd thought the open deck would be better. Less claustrophobic, less enclosed, but the open air just showed a murky, choppy sea that didn't seem very comforting. More like that 'Nature red in tooth and claw' thing.

"How far do you adapt before you're no longer, well, you anymore?" It was an eerie question: he'd thought of Alex as human though the vast percentage of Alex's body was robotic. But this was inner change, beliefs, core faith.

"I am worried," he admits, holding out the arm the young French-accented lady had stabbed. "I'm bleeding." You know, that ringing the dinner bell for sharks. He'd love to say he's not afraid of dying, but sharks. Teeth. More Teeth. No. He'd almost rather be stabbed in the eye.

And there the smile goes ago, a candle snuffed. "No... NO, IT AIN'T. It's harder. HARSHER. Capitol ain't got nothing what he ain't seen before. BUT WE GOT STRONGER WE UP AND DID, THE LOT OF US. So I figure as... when all it ends again, and it will, the last of us will be strong enough what to be able to manage. OUR CHOSEN GREATS WILL MOTHERFUCKING SURVIVE." He wonders if they're showing that on the televisions. He wonders if Terezi will hear it, or if maybe, in district five all put away, Gamzee might.

"Can't quite answer that other thing none. MAYBE WHEN ALL YOU GET LOSING PEOPLE WHAT YOU MOTHERFUCKING CARED FOR CAUSE OF YOU'RE TURNING TO BE. Maybe when you start hurting them your own self." Like he did. "OR MAYBE IT'S ALL BEING YOU. Even the worst still thinking they has for their own self. SO IF THAT'S BEING SUCH WHAT IF YOU AIN'T NEVER STOP BEING YOU? It's just... part." He shrugs, uncomfortable. "AIN'T KNOW RIGHTLY." What about Kurloz? Was he not himself anymore because he wasn't much like his other self? They shared a soul but his otherself felt like a whole different person. More like the way Gamzee was, same but different.

He looks back to see the arm Dennet holds out. He takes the blood in, bright as it is. Then he reaches to the orange suit he's got, gripping the fabric, and off of it, he tears a long strip. "Give that brachium on the fuck over to him," He says, holding the cloth at ready.

"Oh." Well, Dennett, at least you're consistent in your ability to find the biggest conversational pothole and step right in it. "Well, it seems you have an edge adjusting here compared to, well,...me." Detroit was a rough city, but Dennett had been in labs for most of it, nice, safe, snug labs.

"...that's what I'm afraid of, honestly. I know death isn't...necessarily...real here, but I don't want to be a person who kills my own patients." Can he draw that line? So killing a stranger is okay? This is a very, very slippery slope.

And he's still at the top of that slippery slope, but wearing pretty slippy shoes, so he trusts the other, stretching out his arm, because it's almost impossible, even for the man who kept Alex Murphy alive and gave him a body, to bandage a wound with one hand.

He's not the neatest with tending wounds. He is not a docterrorist. But he is experienced with the basics of this, even if all such is primarily his own self, and even then he's more of the riding out ruling. So he makes sure to wrap it over wide as he can, tight, but not too tight. Just enough to stop the flow from a beast's sniffing it out as easy.

"THAT'S WHY AS HE KEEPS SAYING TO WATCH IT. That's why as he all said he knows what as he's talking on." But as he says it now, it's not with much energy. He hums as Dennet speaks on. Then, "YOU AIN'T GOING ALL TO LOSE YOUR THINKPAN FIRST CULL. Not motherfucking usually any damn way, I ain't know about you humans. YOU DO WHAT AS YOU NEED AT TO MOTHERFUCKING DO. Ain't figure culling your people is as to be a need of yours."

And with one more tug, it's looking done. "THERE, SHOULD BE FINE ENOUGH."

Mini Arena 2

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Dennet: self sacrifice opportunity is a go?

Sure thing! :D

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three comments from fifty, can we drag it for points? :')

I wasn't even keeping track, you are awesome

thank you, thank you /bows

Thank you for this thread, btw!

It was great fun c: Dennet is rad. Let us thread again soon. /gore warn