With your feet in the air and your head on the ground

[carnagecarnival]

 Who| Initiate and Terezi
What| Guess who's not dead. It's this guy. Terezi is going to find this out. 
Where| Third floor, near the Alternia store.
When| Forward dated Mid/End of the third week in arena.
WARNINGS| Avoxing/avoxes, references to the conditioning process. Mentions of torture, police brutality. Many instances of altered mental states, guilt/panic. And just for the book, just in case that comes up, all the warnings are here. 

The addition of one, then another Kankri Vantas, surprisingly didn't do much to interupt his schedule. He still went back to Kurloz's pile, he still curled up there in silence (after another torturous round 'force the avox to defy his conditioning and learn to sign') at the far corner of it and slept, the woke again to head off into the arena, once again seeking someone to give him something to do. When he's not reading his own future that is. 

His ears are still scabbed and shredded. It's clear now, like it wasn't totally obvious before, the one useless fin is completely missing. The other is torn something awful, all the thin membrane for feeling that underwater noise is all gone to shit, some of it hanging off loosely in a way that taunts for the tearing but he firmly avoids touching. His hair ain't grown in such short time of course, so it's still short cropped and curling as ever. He's grey faced, largely. And he's near gotten used to not having a tongue. 

With each passing day, he finds he can do a little more than he could before, without the fear swallowing him whole immediate. He finds his shatter cracked self still staying such, but that mysterious third way of being, dragged up through the break line that the Alternian v.s. Avox war got making in him, starts to rise and settle more and more. He still doesn't know what to expect of it, but he's starting to accept it at least, with somewhat less choking terror. 

Today, he can almost tell himself he's walking just because he feels like it. Even if just a while ago he got finished helping the other avoxes put food out as he and they always do. He's up on the third floor, passing all the shops. He's passed them enough he recognizes them all, but his eyes mostly got to glazing over. Today though, he decides to actually take a look at one in particular, that one being, the Alternia store.

And then he proceeds to look immediately down because no, he still does not have the capacity to sort through the sight of that shit. And it's just in this short bit of time, he fails to notice the presence of anyone else altogether, where otherwise he'd be all over it. 

Comments

[pythianjudgment]

If Terezi knew his thoughts, she probably would agree: She does like him better without the paint. His face smells cleaner without it. Softer. And the paint marks him as part of his cult, which... She can't say she hates it so much anymore. But she wouldn't go about saying that she likes it, either.

But what matters most in this moment isn't her own feelings. It's his, and as soon as his breath catches, as soon as he closes his eyes and she feels him lean into her touch, she knows that she made the right choice here.

She paints silently for what seems like a while. It's turned from a gesture to an almost challenge. She has no skill for face-painting, but it's not too much different from painting anything else, and his response to the paint only makes her want to do it right. So she's slow and careful and focused...

And after a while, she finally speaks up: "Your hair hasn't been this short in a while. I'm sorry I can't do anything about that. I remember you telling me that you hated it like this... It made you look too young."

There's a distinct pause, and even her movements slow a bit as she remembers that particular conversation so long ago. "I remember... I got mad at you for this stuff, too. Your faith. I...didn't have the best opinion of it back then. My only exposure to it was nothing short of a tragedy. It hurt... a lot."

"But you..." She puts on the last touches, then drops her hand back down, taking the paint container from his hands. "It was different for you. It...wasn't as vicious and terrible as I had imagined. The celebration thing you had... I have to admit, that was fun. But I never would have known that without you. And... I don't want that to be the last time we get to do that. Okay?"

[carnagecarnival]

That feels so long ago. Both by the avoxing between and it truly having been long ago now. His hair is shorter than it had been then, but her point is the same. He had hated it. It does make him look young.

He remembers her response to his faith. He remembers who scathing she was to hear of it, how much the loathing poured that he'd wondered why she'd want to be near him at all when it was all he knew to be. It hadn't be surprising or none, ain't like hate for the church was uncommon. But he can't say it didn't bother none. Even if he stopped the speak of scripture around her after that.

His eyes open as the paint is taken from him. He can feel it's all been done, good and proper is it. It feels better. He feels whole. His gaze falls on her face as she confesses to him. There's a sort of wonder there in him. There's a clench all upon his pusher.

She wants to attend Carnival with him again.

There's not but the faint 'woosh' of breath leaving him. Gone all to wind-ing is he by such a thing. It means a lot. More than he could say if he could say anything. He feels all out of control of himself like this, like somehow they made him fragile and these little things... they are so much.

A day he does that again would be a day he ain't an avox no more. He's not sure if that'll come or not. But she has faith it will and it makes him wish so badly right then that there was being anything what he could do to express. His head bows to her and her graciousness.

[pythianjudgment]

She's not honestly sure what he's thinking when she tells him all that. Maybe it feels like a strange thing to confess in this situation, but they aren't thoughts that she's taken lightly. It's something she's turned over in her mind more than once or twice, and having fun with him during his Carnival thing only solidified the idea...even if she was reluctant to admit it at the time.

She can tell that he's shocked, and that's no surprise. His head bows, and she takes that as an opportunity to bump her forehead against his again. She comes away with just a little bit of paint, which is summarily wiped away with the back of her hand and a grimace.

"This paint is still gross, though," she adds lightly, wiping her hands off on the closest bit of cloth she can find: some kind of tapestry supposedly for sale. "Is there anything else you're supposed to do for this? To finish it off?"

[carnagecarnival]

Usually up in the arenas he doesn't actually have for more he can do. He could only bring one token and that meant the necklace tube of paint alone. But this is special circumstance. Usually there ain't being no way for proper face.

He rises up to his feet and walks on over in that stiff, silent fashion avoxes tend like to do. He goes to the racks of make up and looks it over, up and down, to see if they might have some setting powder.

In the most distant of senses, an ire churns. They had these all lain out here as such like his faith and the paint ain't weren't being some shit sacred. For a second, his brows furrow, then he finds what he was looking for and walks back, settling to the floor and holding it vaguely out to her.

[pythianjudgment]

He places the powder in her hands, but Terezi is a little uncertain how she's supposed to use this. She assumes--correctly--that it's supposed to go on his face somehow, but the intricacies of paint and make-up application are not her forte. She frowns a little at the jar before lifting her attention up to Kurloz.

I don't think I understand... What am I supposed to do with this? I don't want to mess it up." It, being the paint that she's just carefully applied for him. It was pain-staking enough the first time. She really doesn't want to do it over again.

[carnagecarnival]

He can't paint himself. It's too hard as all he is. But this is just a second long thing. She doesn't know how to do it and she's asking him what to do.

He can do this.

His eyes close and he breathes deep like he's gathering every part of himself what he can. Like he's preparing to sever a limb and not just do good by his Messiahs and his ownself. (He ain't supposed to have a self, he's supposed to-)

He takes the power from her, opening it up with a face torn between fear, determination, and trying not to have expression up at all. He's not giving personhood to himself, he's just making a tribute's hard work keep. Yeah. His hands tremble but he's going to do it if it kills him. He puts the powder on.

And once it's on, the paint made for staying, he droops like he's been drained of energy entirely. His face goes blank again but his eyes are a little brighter than before.

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi honestly expected him to give some sort of demonstration or to mime what she should do. Or simply say nothing at all. So when he begins to apply it himself, Terezi sucks in a quiet breath and holds it.

She almost forgets to breathe during that, and when he finally finished and droops like he's been sucked dry of willpower... That's when she finally exhales in a relieved sort of sigh. He did it. It must have been so difficult, but he did it.

"Thank you," she says, smiling at him and taking the powder from his hands to place the cap back on it. "I'm so proud of you. You did well." She hopes that the encouragement will help to reinforce that this was the right thing to do.

[carnagecarnival]

For a long moment, he just sits the numbly un-reactive, too drained to nothing to offer up anything the motherfuck at all. The slowly, in the tiniest increments, his eyes lift up, then his head, until he he can sort of see her there before him.

He did well... she's... proud?

He knows he gave himself personhood when he wasn't supposed to. But did he follow her command, in some sense?

Was he really worth any pride at all even if he had?

He has the strangest urge to simply curl up here and rest. Not touching her, but near, with the warmth of her pride and the weight of his exhaustion. He merely closes his eyes and sighs. His hand goes to his side, feeling the book left there, and he picks it up to draw it close to himself.

[pythianjudgment]

It's not the first time that he's touched that book. He's been carrying it around with him since she found him outside the store. Why, she's not sure, but it must be important to him to keep it with him. That's good at least, right?

It feels a little like he's drawing in, so she leans forward to bump her head against his again--leaving it there this time. They'll have to move soon. They can't stay hidden away in this store forever, but it's enough to let him rest a bit after all of that. They can move on when he's ready.