thearena | [OPEN + a closed thing]

Entry tags:

✘ r

[OPEN + a closed thing]

Who| Dualscar & Kirk but also OPEN for Dualscar interactions
What| A fish in a desert is a terrible thing. Just Dualscar roaming the arena and eventually picking off Kirk.
Where| Desert arena.
When| Backdated a day or so.
Warnings/Notes| Dualscar being an unpleasant creature and death, obviously.

[OPEN:]

As every day passes, Dualscar's patience wanes a little more. He's generally an irritable sort of creature with a terrible temper, but the heat and severe lack of water have lead him into some vague hallucinations and imagined slights. He's bitter and angry and so incredibly done with this entire situation. At the very least, his raid upon the cornucopia had left him with some useful implements but without a team or a plan his ventures within the arena have become sort of aimless. His run in with Terezi and Initiate hadn't gone at all as he would have liked, but he stumbled away with little more than a bit of a sore head and dizziness.

His fish like appearance is no secret, he has fins and gills upon his neck and he's very obviously not equipped to be in the desert. Should you happen to take pity or perhaps even feel curious, approach at your own risk!

[Closed for Kirk:]
The tremors are a great source of frustration for Dualscar, being jilted whenever you try to cover ground is of no pleasure to him. He wants to seek out better cover before he throws himself on the ground for a well deserved tantrum. He can see vaguely where he'd like to be in the horizon, but his path is once again pulled out from under him. The tremors shift the ground and he slips downward, tumbling through sand and bush before skidding onto a smoother surface.

He hisses to himself indignantly for a small moment before he pulls himself up to his full height, brushing the sand off his greaser outfit and surveying his surroundings. He's armed with a sword and a knife that's buried somewhere in his leather jacket and he is looking more pissed than ever.

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Ruby... was actually doing pretty well. But then, she was a wolf - not a fish - and without her fur coat to weigh her down... Well. The weapons helped, too. She was fully stocked on food, and her water needs were taken care of by the local vegetation. Other than a little dry mouth, she was actually in great condition.

That was probably why she felt like she could handle saying hi. That, and the cross bow bolt. And the scythe. "Are you okay?" she called, coming closer.

At least somebody in this hellish place is! Not that Dualscar has any fond feelings of joy for anyone but himself. He is a selfish creature, after all. He has no need to be magnanimous in the presence of those he's been sent to kill.

Which is why is surprises him when Ruby approaches him with such a seemingly innocent question. His hackles are already raised and he's taking on a defensive stance- however, curiousity has him refraining from making any bold moves.

"Is that a loaded question?" He keeps his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I've been better." He answers plainly, wondering what could inspire such concern.

It's stupid. She knows it's stupid - they're enemies, and if they both live they'll have to kill each other. It would be better for her if he died. But... Ruby's not a killer. She'll shoot someone down for defense, but she can't just watch someone come die.

So she walks a little closer, crossbow pointedly not directed at him.

"You just... looked like you could use help," she admitted.

He seems to acknowledge that she hasn't raised her weapon toward him, but he doesn't seem to falter in his stance at all. It's pretty obvious that he doesn't trust her one bit, but that probably comes as little surprise in a place like this.

However, it might be a little odd that the comment seems to piss him off just a bit. Needless to say, he's an easily irritated kind of guy.

"Am I really so pitiful to you?" He snips. "What could you possibly do to help me?" Beyond, y'know, dying and not being a threat.

She could not shoot him. With her crossbow. She has to wonder if she's seriously trying to antagonize her, now. Still, frown aside, she still avoids directing her steel bolt at his head. Sudden dislike for him aside, there are limits - and besides, at this range, she'd only get one shot before she'd have to rely on her scythe.

"I thought we'd start with introductions."

He is sort of trying to get a rise out of her! Mostly because he's so suspicious he's just looking for reasons to dismiss her offer for assistance.

He crinkles his nose at the suggestion, looking affronted by it. "You first."

"I'm Ruby," she admitted, gesturing faintly at him with the bow. "You next." Before she really does have to shoot him.

Dualscar silently remarks upon the shortness of her title. He's come to realise humans take shorter names, but it and many other concepts are jarring to the troll.

"Orphaner Dualscar." He answers in a cold, curt voice. The second part of his title is self explanatory, given that he has two scars running across his face. The first part? Well. That one has a little more depth to it. "What makes you think you'll be of service to me?"

It causes her to frown - though she was already starting to, at any rate. She was trying to remember to call herself Red - the better to show her alliance to Snow - But... habit died hard.

"What makes you think I want to be of service?" she challenged.

"As I recall, you started this very conversation with an expression of concern." He points that out in a bored tone, quirking a single eyebrow at her. "It seemed to imply that you had something to offer."

"That was before you started talking," she pointed out. She still wants to help, but... She's not so sure about this guy.

"If you intend to be useless then you've done nothin' but waste precious time." Precious time spent circling the desert aimlessly. Yep. "Thus, if you've nothin' further to offer I'm left with no choice but to kill you."

She lifts her crossbow, defensive. "I was wondering if you needed something. But..."

Cool, they can be miserable in the heat together.

R, on the other hand, seems to be taking it with better grace than the troll. Maybe it's because there's only one real drive that matters and he's a lot easier to please than people with pulses and functioning organs. Sometimes they're not worth it. The zombie wanders up looking like he's well on his way to turning into a mummy, his face gaunt and withered, his eyes sunken and starting to take on a cloudy look from constant exposure to the sandstorms. He has to stare and stare hard to have that gray blur materialize into something that looks like he should approach and start practicing his conversations with.

The zombie slouches up, his head bobbing almost down to his chest. The scarf tied to his neck is stained with old gore, stiff and ratty at the edges. R unconsciously brushes himself down like he's straightening his clothes before he sucks it up and introduces himself. Good impressions, good impressions, he chants to himself in that dusty excuse for a skull, good impressions and here we go -

"Hg...hello?" Amazing even that much gets out. Even single syllable words are an accomplishment today. R fixes on what looked like a fish's fin sticking out the troll's head to help keep himself on a roll. "New...troll?"

Call it a hunch, but R thinks he needs water. The fins might have something to do with it: even a zombie can figure that one out.

Generally, misery loves company! When the misery has manifested itself in a guy like Dualscar? Not so much. Given that he's been dropped in the middle of a hellish desert with the apparent mission to survive by murdering others, anyway. It's nothing he's not a little used to, other than the surroundings of course. Fuck sand. Fuck the sun. Fuck the seeming lack of water than isn't stolen from corpses or cornucopias.

He's so lost in his brooding, he hardly acknowledges the other figure until they're within a closer range. He's hard to miss, after all. Not with his curious appearance and strange manner of walking. It's enough to make Dualscar's fins flatten back as he crinkles his nose.

Of course, R's attempts at conversation aren't appreciated, but Dualscar can't quite muster the will to kill him when he's clearly not looking to attack him.

"Somewhat." He answers curtly, clearly not the best subject to practise conversing on. He flicks his eyes over R briefly before returning them to his face. "What relevance is it to you?"

"Good...adv-advice from...trolls," R says like it's fact. (And when you're three for three between Karkat, the Helmsman and Nepeta, it is to a zombie). "Return...favor. Help you?"

The words are already groaning out before he realizes he should've thought this through better. Help this troll how? R has no food on him, no weapons, no plan. Just a walking corpse that's turning to jerky and the clothes hanging off his frame. No water, either. Although...wait, he might be able to help on that front. R's face starts that slow crumple as he concentrates and tries to think. Remember. You can do this. Come on. After a long pause, he finally fishes it out of the foggy murk that's his memory these days.

"Water?" R asks, tentatively. "Water...hole?"

Look, he's going out on a limb here. This troll has fins like a fish that look like they're wilting, so he's going for the most obvious elephant in the room. R can't help but give a dull, curious stare at the fin-ear things. Whatever they are. He's never seen anything like it.

"Really now?" Dualscar is just going to arch a skeptical brow. "I suppose there's a first time for everythin'." The other trolls he's encountered thus far haven't exactly been of any use to him, but he hasn't exactly deserved their good graces. It boggles his mind that R has earned their help in an event that clearly seems designed to pit one another against each other.

In a similar vein, he does have to wonder if R is in his right mind offering help to him of all trolls. It's not as if he has any sort of alliance with them, but he's not going to correct him. Really, he's beginning to wonder if R's mind is functioning at all. He seems to struggle with sentences, which is wearing on Dualscar's thin patience already.

"You know where it is?" He's quick to reply, once again giving R that skeptical look. His fins flick as he does, and he notices they're being stared at. It seems to agitate him further, but he refrains from snapping and simply frowns. "What?"

R's head jerked up and down. "That...way. I've...been there."

He gestured vaguely, his hand flopping up like it's no big deal and all they need to do is keep shuffling in one direction until they find it. He was pretty sure it was that way, looking at it like that. Hopefully he could deliver before the troll dropped. Did trolls do that? R had no clue, seeing as it was one of those things he hadn't bothered to ask when he was looking for advice and he guessed now they'd find out.

Peering at the troll, realizing only now he was staring and staring hard at the fins, R finally dropped his eyes and decided he better prove he could do this. He grunted, jerked his head in another one of those things that might, just might, be a nod, and then started shuffling toward the water hole.

Edited 2013-08-03 11:45 (UTC)

"If you insist." He says, a sigh of suffering escaping his lips as he follows. It's almost as if the concept of being helped is exhausting to the troll.

Dualscar clearly isn't having his finest hours here in the desert, which is why he can't help but keep alert on the off chance that R may be manipulating him in order to discreetly murdering him. He seems particularly slow minded, but it may well be a ruse. Dualscar is practically glaring holes into R's shoulder as he trudges behind him.

He isn't generally one for conversation, but after having gone so long with little contact he feels willing to indulge the zombie's curiousity. "Haven't you ever seen a fin before?"

Of course, he wouldn't be Dualscar if he weren't being abrasive about it at the same time.

He must be doing something right - when he glances over, he sees the troll plodding along a few paces behind. R's shoulder hunches up a little higher, as if some part of him's aware he's getting daggers glared at him. Maybe it's the shreds of self-preservation he died with. Who knows?

R's staring at the fins when he realizes oh, crap, he's been caught in the act.

"Ugh..." R stalls out, his brain trying to catch up and his mouth even further behind. Whatever's left of his withered lips tries to work out the vowels. Consonants feel like mush today. "Not...on...people."

So long as R remains only mildly annoying and not utterly useless, there's only a slim chance Dualscar will be bothered enough to kill him. He knows his very purpose in this arena is to kill off every idiot, but he may just be interested in the company. Sort of. Just a little.

Whatever, he gets water out of it. Nobody can judge him, especially one without the brain capacity to do so.

"Then you are surrounded by inferiors." He says matter-of-factly. He has a lot of pride regarding his fins and clearly R needs to know that. "How many trolls have you seen here?"

R isn't so sure he agrees about that - "inferiors" feels like a harsh word, cutting across the tongue and the roof of his mouth. He grunts at the word, his shoulders hunching ahead of Dualscar. "A...few. I think..."

Crap. This is the point where he's supposed to count, not exactly one of his areas of expertise.

"More than...three...?" R doesn't even sound sure. He thinks there's more than three trolls, but he's spent enough time wandering out in the desert that he can't be sure. They kind of blended together into grey and candy-corn colored horns when he can't even remember what he did yesterday. Shuffled around, he guessed, plus groaning. Same old, same old. R hopes that's the answer this troll's looking for, though. It's the least he can do to help.

It seems that very few really agree with Dualscar in this place. It isn't at all like the system he'd become accustomed to in Alternia, even though it's quite obvious not everyone here is equal in any way, shape or form.

"Interestin'." There, R. He seems somewhat satisfied with that answer. He dwells on it for a short part of their little journey, wondering just how much more information he'll be able to get out of him without breaking him somehow.

"Do you know who they are?"

R almost does break something trying to come up with names. It's been so long since he thought about names and faces and Dualscar's making him strain things in his head that were ready to lie down and die like the rest of him. R's face crumples as he struggles to fish names out.

"Ne...Nepeta...?" R's pretty sure that's one of them. How many more left? He stares forward at the scenery - sand and more sand and some extra sand on the side, just in case the last stretch of sand didn't do it for you. "Kar...kat. Helmsman...?"

If there's more, R's not going to be able to fish them out right now. It's a miracle he got that many out in what, a few minutes? He glances over at his shoulder at Dualscar, quietly proud he's a zombie speed demon today.

At the very least, Dualscar is offering some...stimulating conversation. Stimulating in the sense that it takes a lot of brain power to get any conversation out, anyway.

Dualscar visibly twitches as R forces the words out, grumbling to himself as his impatience becomes more and more obvious. Most of the names mean nothing to him. They are the names of children who exist in an entirely different timeframe. He has little care for them- but his interest piques when The Helmsman is mentioned.

"The Helmsman? He's made his way here, has he?" He makes eye contact with R as he glances over his shoulder. He certainly seems pleased, but he lets out a sinister little chuckle. "I can't imagine he'd be doin' any better than you are."

R seems confused by that chuckle - he likes people laughing and giggling and everything in between but there's an undertone to it that doesn't feel right. The zombie shrugs it off after a moment, swaying as he shuffles through the sand. At least he had a name Dualscar could recognize, right? He's a half-glass full corpse like that.

"I...don't know. Maybe. Look...for him?" R tries to be helpful here with his suggestions while he's groaning. Can't say he's seen Helmsman running around or if he's starving as bad as R is. Withering away into leather. R's resigned to his mummification, taking it in a stride. "You're...friends?"

And because R's a trusting, squishy zombie, he likes to assume everyone's friends off the bat.

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[OPEN + a closed thing]

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Dang it.

Happens to the best of us!

<3

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Sorry about the delay in hitting this

No problem, I'm the lord of late tags.

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