I am not what I was or what I will be

[carnagecarnival]

Who| Initiate and you?
What| Initiate goes and does avox things like cleaning up after people, his new avox conditioning starts to break some the persona his old society built on him, and then eventually he finds a book about his horrific past and future
Where| Around panemall, Chapter One, the food court
When| Very end of week one, going into week two (and possibly onward???)
WARNINGS| Avoxing/avoxes, references to the conditioning process. And just for the book all the warnings are here. And many instances of altered mental states, guilt/panic. 

~A~

When he first finds out they're serving food, out right getting miraculous motherfucking set up of the wicked shit for all them tributes, he doesn't go to the food. He goes to the other avoxes. He tries to look for places where he's needed, tries to get on helping with the setting up. It simultaneously eases him with the natural feel of it all, and sets him off with how he so very clearly both is and is not part of them. He's supposed to help, but he is not all the same. Sends a sorts of jitter-wrongness vibes on through.

He sets up what he can, he even tries to stand with them-- as long as he ain't being in the way of course. When they make to clean up, he makes sure to do so motherfucking thorough, going right out of his way to take the trash on to its place. He maybe... just a little... tries to go a little faster than the other avoxes so he can do more, make up for all the work he isn't doing and gotten done in the arena's go thus far. (And to squirrel away something for his ownself, but that's an aside.)

He pays no mind to what looks he does and does not get by those in court. By all meaning, he does not exist, they are simply looking through him, if at all. Unless of course, someone commands his attention.


~B~


There's a break all of shattercracks up in him. As the time goes on and on, he feels himself waking up so slow, coming alive again and filling out his own corpsecasing, instead of just hiding small inside it now as it begins to occur he's not being touched here by his avoxing team. His soul fills out his digits, comes on to being further front in his eyes. He's slowly making awares of himself.

But he doesn't feel like he's shifting back to how he'd been before his avoxing. That's a disquieting thing being up in its own. Its like what got done on him crushed down on half of himself. The other half is there, still the same, but the crushed half is lifting up to show things up underneath he forgot so thorough, he didn't think as they was being there. They got trying to clean paint off the wall and tore on right through the wallpaper. And he's not sure what-- who-- he's gonna find as being underneath. The three parts, the one he knows, the one he don't, the avox, they all get their clash on sharp.

Its more than just a little frightening, especially now he's lost the thing what let him all to block out that shit in the first place. All his fear training, done for sweeps so as not to not acknowledge it is gone to naught and fucking nil. He's no better than a motherfucking wriggler now in that respect and he knows it. He's almost relieved, for the first time, that he doesn't have his power because he's not sure how he'd take to feeling that all suddenlike the way he is now.

Of course, he can't press too far in thought. Too much of that gets him reeling and he's lost up all over again. Thinking back to things tends on making him jump to the avoxing and-- no. Thinking about that just ain't a thing to be done. No matter his... improvement? Worsening? No matter his progression, he is still too small for his shell and he ain't so ready for the raw edges to touch, the way they do when he directs his own self and calls up a will. As far as pushing out goes, these small observations are as far as he's got. Things like that and 'it's nice not having to wear the blade shoes or any shoes up at all' or 'I could walk in this just because I want to and that would be okay, probably'. He goes back to Kurloz, his alternate, whenever he tires because, while Kurloz ain't an avox, he's mute too and for that reason alone it eases his thinkpan to be by him over anyone else. With Kurloz, he doesn't feel so much the need to be attentive to command when they ain't exactly apt to come.

All said though, he wanders when he's awake for the very same reason; Kurloz isn't going to give an order nor ask him to serve. And when he's awake, when he can't fathom the doing on anything the fuck else, he has to get his look about him for someone what will. The longer he goes without, the more the terror rises up. It batters in his skull, the back and forth of needing to do something and not knowing what to do. And so, even though he knows he should hide, he wanders the halls looking, in all subversion of who he was before, for someone to take advantage of a wandering servant. 


~C~


There's already a book laying open upon the ground, left all tossed or knocked over or just done dropped in a motherfucking hurry. He picks it up automatic, because this is what he's here for, to clean, to serve. All up in his grip, he looks for its proper place, seeking as where to find that it was being prior and put it back there. But as he goes, the words on the books register.

As he goes he sees pictures and little signs and he slows the fuck down. Until, numbly, he turns the book in his hand up to the viewing of his own oculars. His pusher makes want to climb up out of him as he flips the book open with shaking digits, to find a familiar name of one of the tributes past written there. And it talks on them, telling a motherfucking story but his mind races too fast to absorb what it is. He sets the book down neatly atop some others, then turns with a fear in him to look.

It's everyone. They got shit on everymotherfuckinbody. The more he goes, the more panic starts of want to override even his conditioning. He flips through the books faster and faster, searching, and struggling to put them back up on them shelves cause of shaking so hard. And the book what's being looked for falls right down as he's jamming another one back.

It slams to the floor, pages closed. His hands go down, reaching slow and shaking like they're going to pop off from his wrist sockets. His hands curl around the massive tome, claws clicking against the back cover as he lifts it up to himself. And then slowly, sinks down, back against the book shelves.

This is it. This is his future. This is his sin. And he's finally, finally going to motherfucking get a know on for it. He just holds it to his chest like a lifeline, staring upwards at them ceilings like they're going to make about caving in on him. He can't hardly breathe.

Finally, he composes himself just enough, swallowing down the knives in his throat, he opens the book and turns the page. He finds its accuracy the first few pages in, as it makes jolts and jabs at buried memory in his thinkpan for things what got being too long ago to remember. Its the accuracy what frightens most, with a dread filling up for the pages what will touch upon the sweeps he ain't yet lived. Where he done became what he was so motherfucking near to becoming, the terrible boogie man what his best friends whispered about.

Comments

[justoutrunyou]

There's a sound.

It's a creeping sort of sound, but all too familiar in a place like this.

It's a little girl crying.

A few aisles away from where the Avox'd troll is reading his own life story Sandy Marko is hunched over on the floor clutching a shiny graphic novel which was now sporting tear drops that were sliding down her cheeks and falling onto it.

[carnagecarnival]

He's reread already a good part of wigglerhood, remembering things he forgot, a self he forgot. The moment he hears sound, he stiffens. His head goes up and his ears perk and search for the sound. It's close.

He shouldn't be doing such things as reading when he has work to do, but when he rises, the book comes with him, tucked in his arms. He walks slow and quiet 'round the corner, searching for sign of the girl.

And he recognizes her. His pusher does some falling and stumbling at her sadness, but also a rise that she is alive and exists still before him. He settles down quiet at her side, still clutching the book. He looks up, attentive and awaiting, avoiding looking directly at her because that is most certainly not allowed. But he has a presence for once, at her side. It will be hard to miss that he's there.

His eyes do dart some to the pages of her book.

[justoutrunyou]

She gives a jump when he draws close and lashes out with one of her feet in a panic, stumbling backwards and cracking her head on a shelf sending a tumble of books down ontop of her.

With a groan she sits up and her dizzy dazed eyes settle on who it is. One eye is wide and frightful, the other is bruised dark ugly purple and clearly still healing the way that it's a little slower to track his motions. Both are bloodshot and her cheeks are still shiny and wet from her tears.

"S-sorry."

[carnagecarnival]

When she jumps and kicks, his flinch is violent, arms coming up in front of his face out of instinct, knees pulling in to his chest. He hears the thump and the groan and his thoughts are song of oh no, oh mirth, oh no as his arms slowly lower to show wide eyes mirroring hers.

He doesn't miss the bruise all swelled, nor the brand she wears, flesh all burnt away. But his conditioning catches him less than a second later, and with the tumble of books, he's bent forward and picking them up careful, putting them away, cleaning it all without pause or attention to her.

He doesn't pay heed to her apology. There ain't none needed.

B

[seestheman]

Clara's wandering as well, though for a different reason. She has a bag full of clothes and a knife wedged into her belt when she comes across him. It takes a moment for her to realize that, even if it's not very well, she does know him. He looks so different, especially compared to how he looked when he was laughing in that ballpit.

Though, to be fair, between the gauze over her eye and how tired she must look, she doesn't doubt that she looks that different as well.

"How are you holding up?"

Small retcon: the other fin is 2/3rd's torn up along with the one that's just gone & bloodied

[carnagecarnival]

The very moment he spots her, his back goes straighter. A tribute. Someone who can give him something what to be about the working on.

It takes him a few minutes more to realise who it is, and also register that, damn a sister is at to be looking like one motherfucking big ass serving of hot mess. He remembers losing an eye once. It hadn't been no sort of joy to be had.

But the memory slips out quick and his eyes are down. He stays silent because he ain't holding up anything. His arms stay at his side as he awaits one of the inevitables what could come.

[seestheman]

It takes a moment more for her to notice his fins. Or lack thereof. Hell, their lacking wouldn't have even really registered to her if it weren't for the fact that the remaining one (or what's left of it) looks like it was fed through a paper shredder. It takes all of Clara's resolve not to wince at the thought of how much it must have hurt.

"Do you need any help with those? I could probably tear up something in here to try to bandage them if you want."

B-ish

[voodoocarnival]

Its a bit strange, that in all the chaos of the arena, there comes a little slice what be of normal come nighttime. He'll always wander back to his pile in the food court, and soon after the Initiate will all up and come join him much the same, a quiet shadow following after.

Oddly fitting, if a motherfucker was done prone to think of such things.

Sleep isn't a thing he's all much accustomed to, fearing nightmares, fearing discovery without what means of defending one's ownself, so it feels the perfect time for a brother to all be getting his teach on of another motherfucker.

By the time the Initiate comes by, he'll have notebooks and pens pilfered from the bookstore all laid out, a list of words scrawled all down on one what to be learned to sign out properlike, and another at the ready for both of them to be gettin' their proper communication on.

Whether the Initiate made use of his or not, it was there. He'd been quick to establish, once he got his knowing on of the nature of an avox, that he wanted communication, a show of understanding, and that was a motherfucking order, oh pan-addled brother mine.

Re: B-ish

[carnagecarnival]

When he goes out, he goes and goes until he's tried-- not exhausted, that would take too long, but sufficiently tired. So when he comes back, he can justify letting himself sleep and he's all being ready to do so. But Kurloz has got himself other plans, and when the Initiate walks in and realises too late them new things ain't just being new additions to Kurloz's pile, he freezes.

His mouth presses to an even thinner line, like doing so will keep him quiet more than being a motherfucking mute will. This is not allowed. This ain't being closed to allowed. This is being so motherfucking far from it it's up in some other universe all by now. Why, Kurloz, must you do this to him? Betrayed by his own damn alternate.

He folds to his knees before his counterpartner, eyes wide and a notable shake to his hands that absolutely do not reach for a pen. His eyes dart back and forth the list of written words and hand signs, then to a blank space of floor (he shouldn't be making note, he should know it's forbidden, curiosity be damned, whatever Kurloz wants ought be too much).

His mind is spinning circles. He braces for the inevitable condition-conflicting command with panicked breaths.

[voodoocarnival]

He's the opposite - when he goes out, it is a quick jaunt to retrieve some item or another and then back to his pile, back to his corner, back to relative safety, because at least here he can see or hear others approach and have time to make ready for whatever all needs done. The Initiate's footsteps are already gone familiar-like, so he doesn't make to be all defensive when he comes, only some minor smugness at his plan.

Still, it doesn't quite sit right with him to be all up and getting his manipulation on of his brother in faith. He's learned proper like what that orders is what rings best in him, true, so communication would have to come in sharp orders, but it ain't no comfortable thing what to be doing.

But he needs to learn, because it ain't done guaranteed he'd all get his twitcher back, his voice back, so in spare moments of peace is what is most convenient to be teaching a brother. Even if he all has to be forcing him against the grain to be gettin' his learn on.

｢YOU WILL ALL MOTHER FUCKIN GET TAKE ON OF PEN AND PAPER.
YOU WILL WRITE ANSWERS ALL MOTHER FUCKIN OUT WHEN YOU AINT DONE GOT KNOW ON OF WHAT SIGN ALL UP TO BE USED.
BROTHER AINT CARE WHAT THAT A MOTHERFUCKER DONT WANT TO BE UP AND GETTIN HIS DO ON A SUCH THINGS.
ORDERS IS ORDERS.｣

A

[hit_girl_mindy]

She's on a mission.

Clementine was holding down the fort, and Mindy knew that gave her time. She kept to the darker places, making a note in her head where she needed to go, what she needed to do, what place to come back to. Since sleep didn't interest her in the least, she opted for reconnaissance, going again to see if she could snag any food.

When she comes upon the Avoxes, she's swift, grabbing what she can. She hardly notices them, doesn't make eye contact right away.

Re: A

[carnagecarnival]

He still ain't going to try for attention, of course he ain't. But he recognizes another tribute and after a second peek from the corner of his eye, he sees that it's Mindy.

Mindy who was captured, what he'd thought gone near to execution. He hadn't saved her, and not because he hadn't wanted to. But she's alive, and here now. She's alive and that matters.

He's quick with nabbing a food tray and quick to get back. He sets it down nice and precise on the table beside her. No eye contact, no attempts for movement, no expression betraying anything. But still a decent enough 'I want you to have this'. He hopes she sees it.

Re: A

[hit_girl_mindy]

Mindy was not the type to miss things, especially when it came to food. When she saw what was laid out, she was quick to take a very small bit for herself and gently grab the rest. This had to go for the girls back in the comic shop, because aside from Chibi Usa and Hotaru she didn't know how many of them would be getting food parachuted in. She saw there were Avoxed cluttered about, but she was looking for the one who left this, to at least thank him before he hurried away.

And then she saw him.

"I-Initiate?"

C!

[iflipmyhair]

"...Initiate."

She was there. There, with her own horrible book, filled with lies. He'd wandered off. In the confusion, she'd lost him after the Cornucopia, and now, now she finally found him.

She ran - didn't walk - when she saw him cuddled over, holding that book. Went on her knees to him.

"What's wrong?" She spotted the book. "What did they say?"

Re: C!

[carnagecarnival]

Homura. She'd vanished from his sights for a while. But he'd been keeping safe. Enough. He'd been doing as she wanted, hiding out. He's been staying with Kurloz.

This is what he tells himself to bring assurance he ain't don her wrong. The panic comes anyway and his shoulders hike, but his claws refrain, miraculously, from tearing into the book.

He shakes his head, not in answer, but in shaking out what's all gone in his head. He knows...

[iflipmyhair]

It was the book. Considering how tightly he held it, how much he shook, how he panicked - it had to be. What else could it be? Did he have the same luck as that older man?

"...This." Homura quietly pointed to the book. "May I see it?"

C

[silberfuchs]

"Are you certain you should read that? That sort of thing is usually full of lies." The bookstore is an area that Albert finds himself haunting a lot more as the week peters out, mostly out of looking for actual things to read than anything else. Whatever's been useful here for survival has been picked clean but with himself and his partner having been incredibly fortunate this arena, he finds himself with time to simply read. He tries to avoid the tribute's biographies as a rule after that first perusal with Bruce, but when he'd caught sight of Initiate's towering form, he thought he should say something.

Re: C

[carnagecarnival]

His towering form ain't so towering as he sit on the floor, stripped of all them little aspects save height what made him so motherfucking imposing. He looks up in alarm, jolting on the spot, then immediately ducks his head down again.

His arms wrap around the book he's got held, holding it close to his ownself like it's something to protect and not just set fire to. His face ain't happy like it's something to protect. There's a pale-ness to the grey what ain't got no paint (thanks to Kurloz) upon it.

His head shakes near frantic. He knows his book ain't lies. That's the problem.

[silberfuchs]

"It's alright, it's your decision. I'm not going to take it from you." It's apparent immediately what had happened. Avoxing is a hard thing to miss and Albert's heart clenches that someone so vibrant, if intimidating, as Initiate is brought to this.

"Only...Most of them are false, and even the ones that are true... there's little use in dwelling." His voice grows soft and soothing, trying to piece together exactly what's going on. He assumes Initiate's book is like his own, a breach of privacy that explains all the things he'd done in stark detail. All the things he wants to take back, the things he'd forgotten he'd wanted, the things he'd managed to put from his mind until the book brought them back full force.

He doesn't know they can contain the future as well.

Around

[shenunigans]

There's a lot crap about this Arena. Right from the start it had been exhausting, violent and stressful. Oddly, though, it's starting to pick up, for Dave at least. Loki was pretty good company and an even better ally and the setting gives him an edge because he has spent many hours in many malls before. But better than that, better than anything is the fact that he has a skateboard. Perhaps it isn't the most subtle method of transport given the fact that you can hear the wheels rolling before you even see him, but he can pull tricks and move fast and he's got a knife for driveby slashing if it's necessary.

Initiate is pretty hard to miss even from a distance, and Dave could easily coast right by him, but there's a bit of solidarity between them now and he's looking kind of off-colour. As such, he rolls to a stop when he approaches and nods at him, giving him an appraising look. Dave looks like he's taken a beating, but something Initiate is distinctly worse.

"S'up, big top?" He cocks his head to the side, taking in his injuries. "Woah. Someone has balls fucking with your shit."

Re: Around

[carnagecarnival]

Footsteps are a common enough sound. People walking about. Even the roombas are a sorts of familiar now. The sound what comes now is strange. It has him looking up in slightest degree, as Dave, he recognizes, rolls into his midst.

He hears the nickname, the vaguely familiar voice. He's been called to attention. He makes sure to stand straight, shoulders level. His eyes stay down, empty of any motherfucking thing up at all.

He doesn't respond to Dave's words otherwise. But the comment does get the small twitch from the unmangled ear. He wonders what Dave might do, finding him obedient, if the motherfucker will hold to what truce they'd had when there ain't Terezi Pyrope what to save.

[shenunigans]

By now, Dave has had enough experiences with people turned Avox to be familiar with the signs of change. He's already reminding him vaguely of Cecil, who at one point was so eager to get into his personal space but as of late could hardly look at him. He doesn't know for sure, but he can imagine why someone like Initiate would take a little more subduing than someone like him when it came to a jailbreak. He didn't strike him as the type to go quietly.

Despite their rocky start, Dave doesn't hold much ill will against him. He doesn't precisely understand Terezi's connection to him and her opinions of people don't always match his, but he wasn't the sort of guy who would hold a grudge over something he can barely remember. As such, he simply kicks his board up to catch it and tuck it under his arm, indicating that he's alright to hang for the moment.

"I'm used to one sided conversations." He says flippantly, but he's trying to point out that he knows what they've done. His eyes are going straight to his ears, that's a fresh job, he's curious about who specifically would waste time doing that to someone. "Well that's gross and unnecessary. Lemme venture a guess, fish-prince? Eridan? Guess he's unleashing his grudge terrors all over the place, must be like Christmas for him." He says this like he's already gotten an answer.

other mutually agreed upon thingy, probably some time after C

[ka_sera_sera]

The machines that patrol the halls of this mall seem harmless enough, for the most part. Fairly useless, too, which is why it's strange to see someone chasing after one. Even that Roland would normally let alone, because the two choices in these arenas seem to be 'kill' or 'hide', and even if he's not quite hiding he's becoming well used to staying out of sight and out of the way.

But this particular person is someone he knows, if not well. Someone he'd given his word he'd try to help. It takes a moment for familiarity to set in, but once it does Roland scans the hallway to see if anyone else is nearby and then follows, catching up to the Initiate quickly and keeping pace just out of arm's reach. "Something the matter?"

Sorry about lateness ; ;

[carnagecarnival]

He had dreamed of color. Of things gone all of the mind. The colors had bored into his mind and he had not forgetten them, especially not after they'd resurfaced again upon the wax face of a tribute what no longer was. He stood before that statue, unknowing, but knowing that he should. Them colors were written into the writ of his faith, the code of his being. And then here, he'd found them again.

In the pages of a book he'd found them and even though they had avoxed him, even if they had managed on being more thorough, nothing would stop him from reacting to this. Gods are in this book. And the two beings what got being made as one, are key. The Messiahs have touched upon this book and likewise has it done on the Messiahs.

It brings him to his knees, has him clutching the book. Then, in a breathless flurry, he's putting the book down and flipping through the pages at break speed. Mention of the Messiahs. Mention of the faith. Great events, The Vast Honk to come. Paradise planet. His other self being of importance still. Minstrels. Angels both of them, one to be of double death and the other--

Gamzee's there. His descendant is a guardian to the angels two of soul, one of body. Gamzee took them, went for the offer of care, he--

There's a terrible shredding noise and before his eyes, in his shock all taking him from worlds beyond his thinkpan, there's a roomba gone taking this holy object of faith from him. And it's devouring it.

His first instinct is to shriek but of course nothing comes out. But his mind is a choir to it.

He rushes forward, chasing after the book and the roomba, a look of absolute open-mouthed horror on his face, making him more animated than he's been in weeks.

And then in the midst of his chase, a voice come and his avox pulls his puppet strings straight. But his eyes dart with a horror the roomba scuttling off. In his hands are only a few shredded up pages.

I'm in no hurry, it's all good. but since we're apologizing I'm sorry my replies are so short

[ka_sera_sera]

Doesn't take Roland too long to make the connection. "Look in those stores for something to stick inside it," he says, gesturing toward the nearby line of shops. There are people who are probably good to spend time with for a recovering avox, people who don't give such casual orders. Roland is not one of those people, at least not when he doesn't know that this is the case. "The one with the jewelry, if nothing else. Or the crystals. I'll keep track of it."