Karkat Vantas ♋ carcinoGeneticist (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crabmunicator) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2015-10-08 11:19 am
crabmunicator) wrote in thearena2015-10-08 11:19 am
Entry tags:
[open] do you know where you go
Who| Karkat and OPEN
What| Who wants to see that place those grey weirdos came from? Who wants to see it destroyed?
Where| The Alternian areas of the arena, namely the forest/city.
When| Week 1 up to the meteors in week 2.
Warnings/Notes| Probable description of canon-typical troll society awfulness.
(OOC: Instead of specific prompts, I'm just giving a general rundown of where Karkat may be and what he'd be doing there. Feel free to have your character run into or interrupt him at any point!)
Alternia was Karkat's first home and the one out of everything that he had longest: six sweeps, or the first thirteen years of his life. Seeing it here in the arena isn't something he ever expected, but it made a fine target since he first spotted the familiar blue trees with their pink foliage. Getting there was another issue, with the water that blocked direct passage, the desert he had to cross, and the trouble of finding Maglev in the mix, but he's tried to stay here as well as he can.
It is, at the least, familiar. In the searing days he retreats to the city and sleeps, not in the useless, fake sopor slime of the recuperacoons but on whatever furniture is comfortable enough. Anyone who would want to invade would have to risk the burns and blindness brought by the sun's heat, a risk high enough that for once he lets himself lower his guard to rest.
But at night, he slips out. He has his sickle, gained from Nitou who grabbed it from the Cornucopia. In the second week he gains a hunting knife from a sponsor. With these he hunts and defends himself. There are hulking, white monsters that stalk between the misshapen buildings, or out between the neon trees of the forest, bigger than those he knew from his friends. He tries when he can to find creatures from other worlds, but more than once his jagged sickle threshes one of the smaller, less dangerous lusii for its meat. After almost a year of Panem, it's strange to see so many colors of blood.
At all turns he avoids the pincer-clawed creatures. They might look like his lusus of old, but not a one shows him favor.
There are other things not even worth the risk here, though. Great, black shapes in spiked chitin stalk now and then, their shapes likely foreboding even to those not raised within the culture that told their purpose. These, if he hears them, if he sees them, he runs from without time to pause. They'd cull him as a mutant on his own planet, and they're sure to have no more mercy here.
Other times, it's strange nostalgia that sends him out. Alternia was dangerous, a planet where a troll like him should be dead just for quirk of genetics, but he's missed it still. He goes down streets staring at the blocky buildings, their twelve-pane windows; he wanders through trees that will always remind him of Terezi. (He finds her hive, once, and spends the night swearing as he scrambles up the tree it's built into, or as he sits inside remembering times past.) Sometimes he trails along the shore, gazing out at the gleaming towers of that purple and gold island set near. There are boats, he's seen, but he wonders at the risk--or flees from it, when the hungry screeching of the tentacled beast beneath starts up.
By contrast, he avoids the Carnival entirely. That place brings no good associations--if anything, draws up terror instilled by the Initiate's chucklevoodoos, and bad memories besides. Only once does he end up there on accident, and it's after a rescue and a long sideways trek that he ends up in another place he would have sooner avoided: the Alternian desert.
There at night the sands are colorful, the dangers calm, but it's dry and vast and a good trip back to the familiar city. The question is where to weather the day, what shelter to find--caves in rocky outcrops, perhaps--and how to avoid the shambling, trollish daywalkers that awaken with the sun.
Wherever he is, he keeps his eye open for people. Tributes he knows draw his attention immediately, either with a shouted greeting or a warning if danger is near. Those unfamiliar he does all he can to avoid, sinking back behind what cover there might be, breath held, gaze wary for hopes they pass without seeing him.
Often, though, it's the night sky that draws him. The stars aren't quite the same, but two familiar moons hang in the sky: acid green and bubblegum pink, stuck in their own mock-orbits, far different than the silvery white of Earth's satellite. It's by this that he spots the first shooting stars when they come--and with that, the danger as they streak nearer to eventually strike the ground itself. From there he turns to fleeing, and anyone he sees then gets the same shouted warning: "RUN! IT'S THE RECOKING!"
Where he'll go after, he doesn't yet know.
What| Who wants to see that place those grey weirdos came from? Who wants to see it destroyed?
Where| The Alternian areas of the arena, namely the forest/city.
When| Week 1 up to the meteors in week 2.
Warnings/Notes| Probable description of canon-typical troll society awfulness.
(OOC: Instead of specific prompts, I'm just giving a general rundown of where Karkat may be and what he'd be doing there. Feel free to have your character run into or interrupt him at any point!)
Alternia was Karkat's first home and the one out of everything that he had longest: six sweeps, or the first thirteen years of his life. Seeing it here in the arena isn't something he ever expected, but it made a fine target since he first spotted the familiar blue trees with their pink foliage. Getting there was another issue, with the water that blocked direct passage, the desert he had to cross, and the trouble of finding Maglev in the mix, but he's tried to stay here as well as he can.
It is, at the least, familiar. In the searing days he retreats to the city and sleeps, not in the useless, fake sopor slime of the recuperacoons but on whatever furniture is comfortable enough. Anyone who would want to invade would have to risk the burns and blindness brought by the sun's heat, a risk high enough that for once he lets himself lower his guard to rest.
But at night, he slips out. He has his sickle, gained from Nitou who grabbed it from the Cornucopia. In the second week he gains a hunting knife from a sponsor. With these he hunts and defends himself. There are hulking, white monsters that stalk between the misshapen buildings, or out between the neon trees of the forest, bigger than those he knew from his friends. He tries when he can to find creatures from other worlds, but more than once his jagged sickle threshes one of the smaller, less dangerous lusii for its meat. After almost a year of Panem, it's strange to see so many colors of blood.
At all turns he avoids the pincer-clawed creatures. They might look like his lusus of old, but not a one shows him favor.
There are other things not even worth the risk here, though. Great, black shapes in spiked chitin stalk now and then, their shapes likely foreboding even to those not raised within the culture that told their purpose. These, if he hears them, if he sees them, he runs from without time to pause. They'd cull him as a mutant on his own planet, and they're sure to have no more mercy here.
Other times, it's strange nostalgia that sends him out. Alternia was dangerous, a planet where a troll like him should be dead just for quirk of genetics, but he's missed it still. He goes down streets staring at the blocky buildings, their twelve-pane windows; he wanders through trees that will always remind him of Terezi. (He finds her hive, once, and spends the night swearing as he scrambles up the tree it's built into, or as he sits inside remembering times past.) Sometimes he trails along the shore, gazing out at the gleaming towers of that purple and gold island set near. There are boats, he's seen, but he wonders at the risk--or flees from it, when the hungry screeching of the tentacled beast beneath starts up.
By contrast, he avoids the Carnival entirely. That place brings no good associations--if anything, draws up terror instilled by the Initiate's chucklevoodoos, and bad memories besides. Only once does he end up there on accident, and it's after a rescue and a long sideways trek that he ends up in another place he would have sooner avoided: the Alternian desert.
There at night the sands are colorful, the dangers calm, but it's dry and vast and a good trip back to the familiar city. The question is where to weather the day, what shelter to find--caves in rocky outcrops, perhaps--and how to avoid the shambling, trollish daywalkers that awaken with the sun.
Wherever he is, he keeps his eye open for people. Tributes he knows draw his attention immediately, either with a shouted greeting or a warning if danger is near. Those unfamiliar he does all he can to avoid, sinking back behind what cover there might be, breath held, gaze wary for hopes they pass without seeing him.
Often, though, it's the night sky that draws him. The stars aren't quite the same, but two familiar moons hang in the sky: acid green and bubblegum pink, stuck in their own mock-orbits, far different than the silvery white of Earth's satellite. It's by this that he spots the first shooting stars when they come--and with that, the danger as they streak nearer to eventually strike the ground itself. From there he turns to fleeing, and anyone he sees then gets the same shouted warning: "RUN! IT'S THE RECOKING!"
Where he'll go after, he doesn't yet know.
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