04-04-2016, 04:17 AM
That’s it. He’s spent.
All of that raw energy, that insatiable hunger for hurt and pain and misery; it’s all gone. As soon as Strazio Rockwell had exited the building, all of the bite out of this underdog had gone with him. And then what does his new best-bro do? He goes off and blows himself up. Purple pearls of tears form in the corners of his eyes as Gamzee crumples to his knees. For a moment it’s just him, kneeling there as if he was about to profoundly confess to an invisible god some unseen, insurmountable sin. Tears track through his dirty, bloody cheeks, smearing facepaint. The horned trickster takes a moment to slowly raise his head up to the blanche Nexus sky. There’s nothing up there, yaknow? It’s just a pure canvas, as white and innocent as a gated community. Briefly and ironically, the alien wonders what’s out there in the vast, endless white.
*tha-THUMP*
A canvas, after all, must be filled up with a beautiful painting. Where do you suppose the beginning of this particular art is? Cuz this shit? This death and destruction? This ain’t art.
*tha-THUMP*
The teenager slumps over, his fate apparent. Just as his head hits the ground, a floodgate opens. A corona of harsh dark orange begins to pulse out from Gamzee’s violet irises, slowly filling up the luminous yellow that currently inhabits his eyes. It’s like someone poured sun-baked orange soda straight into his eyeballs, dyeing them thusly. His breath quickens, like an old dishrag scrubbing the rust and gunk off of an ancient baking pan. His heartbeat follows with an attempt at a one-drum-solo.
A canvas, after all, must be filled up with a beautiful painting.
Flopping over onto his stomach, the mangled alien forces himself to his hands and knees, reaching out for his weapons of bone. Using them as leverage, the aching teen rises to a standing position. His dark tangerine eyes lock-on to a still-standing Harbitcher. The fused being seemed only mildly affected and stunned by his pal’s self destruction. Another death in vain.
Fuck. That.
For a moment, everything seems mute and fuzzy. One step forward, towards the flamey skeleton asshole. Gamzee can’t really control himself. He can feel the pain that his movements are causing, but he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. Royal, High blood roars in his ears, blocking out any further explosions or insults or death threats. None of it mattered.
No seriously, fuck that!
A wide, childish grin that is short a few teeth splits the troll’s wrecked face. Why should there be only one more death? Why shouldn’t there be one more? Or two? Or twenty?!
Five dead bodies pinned on the wall, five dead bodies pinned. Take one down, pass it around, Six dead bodies pinned on the wall.
A wretched sound is erupting from the bowels of the quadrifusion, something akin to the rattling of bones and a hoarse cough. What an annoying display. As the blood and dust gradually dissipates, The Fool comes into view.
“I don’t suppose you’ll supply us with some lovely fireworks as well?”
Gamzee is silent, the only audible sound from his direction being the scrape of juggling pins along Nexus tile as they hang limply at his sides. He still parades a smirk that is only slightly too large for his face. His eyes look sunken in, and pained.
“Honk.”
The Skele-bitch doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so he decides to simply summon a wicked looking scythe and level it menacingly at the horned hooligan’s diminutive form.
The two entities stare at each other for a moment. One out of mere curiosity, as if a scientist studying best how to dissect a mouse, the other out of pure loathing, hatred and defiance.
Lightning crackles at Gamzee’s feet. The scythe shifts ever so slightly. Suddenly, without warning, the clown raises his right arm, club high in the air, as if he were a drum major. Then, he chucks the juggling pin in a throwing axe fashion right at the bastard’s burning skull. Hard.
*BONK*
The impact causes a small, almost unnoticeable crack. The Harbinger is unfazed.
“The light in your eyes; it offends us.”
The blade spins and dances through the air in a furious display, before finally using all that gathered momentum to plant itself firmly into the rebel’s midsection. The impaled in this situation feels the blade tear through his body like a needle through thread.
“DOES IT LOOK LIKE I GIVE A-”
With practiced ease, the bringer lifts his fool foe high above his burning skull. Violet blood and a tiny chunk of pale skin falls into the eternal, ever hungering flames. Lightning begins to crawl over Gamzee’s skin, before suddenly discharging itself in a violent explosion that propels the conduit clean off of the blade. His smoking body flips and flops across the nexus tile only about five meters away, and it is only moments before the crazed fool is back on his feet.
“That was motherfucking rude of you.”
A good hunk of Gamzee’s stomach is nowhere to be found. An open, pulsating, violet wound the size of a softball sits right above his bellybutton. Still, the prey marches towards his predator. A spear of lightning crackles to life in his right hand. The club twirls in his left.
“NOW SIT STILL AND LOOK UGLY, PUNCHLINE LOOKIN’ MOTHERFUCKER!” The troll shouts, grin still stuck to his face like gum stuck to a shoe. “‘Cuz I got good news for you.”
Taking a hop-step in the Harbinger’s direction, he launches his javelin into a beautiful pitch straight for the headshot. The monstrosity simply bats it away, the weapon exploding in a shower of sparks upon contact. Through the sparks leaps a High-Blood, juggling pin raised for the strike.
“YOU CAN’T KEEP DOWN THE CLOWN, BROTHER!” The alien latches on with his legs and free hand, clinging to the skeleton’s burning form like a tick. Down comes the ivory weapon, over and over again, one crack, two cracks, three cracks, four. Not enough, he needs some more. The rainbow paint job blurs as the strikes rain down, but only for a moment longer. The beast grows tired of this pest, and grabs the insipid child by the swingin’ arm to halt the blows. But that doesn’t stop the madman, as the royal troll rears his head back for a nasty headbutt that, quite frankly, only hurts himself.
But he doesn’t give a motherfuck.
Before he knows it, there is hand on his neck and Gamzee is flung into the ground like a hammer nailing a nail. He feels his spine crack under the strain, his bones aching and sore and in constant pain. His muscles scream. He screams, joyously so.
“Your crushed bones will make my special stardust!” He shouts zealously, as the Harbinger slams him into the ground over and over and over and-
“WELCOME TO THE DARK CARNIVAL, BROTHER!”
Lightning begins to snake its way all throughout his veins and bones and skin. He overloads this pent up rage with every slam into the Nexus, an explosion discharging upon every impact. He's still smiling.
All of that raw energy, that insatiable hunger for hurt and pain and misery; it’s all gone. As soon as Strazio Rockwell had exited the building, all of the bite out of this underdog had gone with him. And then what does his new best-bro do? He goes off and blows himself up. Purple pearls of tears form in the corners of his eyes as Gamzee crumples to his knees. For a moment it’s just him, kneeling there as if he was about to profoundly confess to an invisible god some unseen, insurmountable sin. Tears track through his dirty, bloody cheeks, smearing facepaint. The horned trickster takes a moment to slowly raise his head up to the blanche Nexus sky. There’s nothing up there, yaknow? It’s just a pure canvas, as white and innocent as a gated community. Briefly and ironically, the alien wonders what’s out there in the vast, endless white.
*tha-THUMP*
A canvas, after all, must be filled up with a beautiful painting. Where do you suppose the beginning of this particular art is? Cuz this shit? This death and destruction? This ain’t art.
*tha-THUMP*
The teenager slumps over, his fate apparent. Just as his head hits the ground, a floodgate opens. A corona of harsh dark orange begins to pulse out from Gamzee’s violet irises, slowly filling up the luminous yellow that currently inhabits his eyes. It’s like someone poured sun-baked orange soda straight into his eyeballs, dyeing them thusly. His breath quickens, like an old dishrag scrubbing the rust and gunk off of an ancient baking pan. His heartbeat follows with an attempt at a one-drum-solo.
A canvas, after all, must be filled up with a beautiful painting.
Flopping over onto his stomach, the mangled alien forces himself to his hands and knees, reaching out for his weapons of bone. Using them as leverage, the aching teen rises to a standing position. His dark tangerine eyes lock-on to a still-standing Harbitcher. The fused being seemed only mildly affected and stunned by his pal’s self destruction. Another death in vain.
Fuck. That.
For a moment, everything seems mute and fuzzy. One step forward, towards the flamey skeleton asshole. Gamzee can’t really control himself. He can feel the pain that his movements are causing, but he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. Royal, High blood roars in his ears, blocking out any further explosions or insults or death threats. None of it mattered.
No seriously, fuck that!
A wide, childish grin that is short a few teeth splits the troll’s wrecked face. Why should there be only one more death? Why shouldn’t there be one more? Or two? Or twenty?!
Five dead bodies pinned on the wall, five dead bodies pinned. Take one down, pass it around, Six dead bodies pinned on the wall.
A wretched sound is erupting from the bowels of the quadrifusion, something akin to the rattling of bones and a hoarse cough. What an annoying display. As the blood and dust gradually dissipates, The Fool comes into view.
“I don’t suppose you’ll supply us with some lovely fireworks as well?”
Gamzee is silent, the only audible sound from his direction being the scrape of juggling pins along Nexus tile as they hang limply at his sides. He still parades a smirk that is only slightly too large for his face. His eyes look sunken in, and pained.
“Honk.”
The Skele-bitch doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so he decides to simply summon a wicked looking scythe and level it menacingly at the horned hooligan’s diminutive form.
The two entities stare at each other for a moment. One out of mere curiosity, as if a scientist studying best how to dissect a mouse, the other out of pure loathing, hatred and defiance.
Lightning crackles at Gamzee’s feet. The scythe shifts ever so slightly. Suddenly, without warning, the clown raises his right arm, club high in the air, as if he were a drum major. Then, he chucks the juggling pin in a throwing axe fashion right at the bastard’s burning skull. Hard.
*BONK*
The impact causes a small, almost unnoticeable crack. The Harbinger is unfazed.
“The light in your eyes; it offends us.”
The blade spins and dances through the air in a furious display, before finally using all that gathered momentum to plant itself firmly into the rebel’s midsection. The impaled in this situation feels the blade tear through his body like a needle through thread.
“DOES IT LOOK LIKE I GIVE A-”
With practiced ease, the bringer lifts his fool foe high above his burning skull. Violet blood and a tiny chunk of pale skin falls into the eternal, ever hungering flames. Lightning begins to crawl over Gamzee’s skin, before suddenly discharging itself in a violent explosion that propels the conduit clean off of the blade. His smoking body flips and flops across the nexus tile only about five meters away, and it is only moments before the crazed fool is back on his feet.
“That was motherfucking rude of you.”
A good hunk of Gamzee’s stomach is nowhere to be found. An open, pulsating, violet wound the size of a softball sits right above his bellybutton. Still, the prey marches towards his predator. A spear of lightning crackles to life in his right hand. The club twirls in his left.
“NOW SIT STILL AND LOOK UGLY, PUNCHLINE LOOKIN’ MOTHERFUCKER!” The troll shouts, grin still stuck to his face like gum stuck to a shoe. “‘Cuz I got good news for you.”
Taking a hop-step in the Harbinger’s direction, he launches his javelin into a beautiful pitch straight for the headshot. The monstrosity simply bats it away, the weapon exploding in a shower of sparks upon contact. Through the sparks leaps a High-Blood, juggling pin raised for the strike.
“YOU CAN’T KEEP DOWN THE CLOWN, BROTHER!” The alien latches on with his legs and free hand, clinging to the skeleton’s burning form like a tick. Down comes the ivory weapon, over and over again, one crack, two cracks, three cracks, four. Not enough, he needs some more. The rainbow paint job blurs as the strikes rain down, but only for a moment longer. The beast grows tired of this pest, and grabs the insipid child by the swingin’ arm to halt the blows. But that doesn’t stop the madman, as the royal troll rears his head back for a nasty headbutt that, quite frankly, only hurts himself.
But he doesn’t give a motherfuck.
Before he knows it, there is hand on his neck and Gamzee is flung into the ground like a hammer nailing a nail. He feels his spine crack under the strain, his bones aching and sore and in constant pain. His muscles scream. He screams, joyously so.
“Your crushed bones will make my special stardust!” He shouts zealously, as the Harbinger slams him into the ground over and over and over and-
“WELCOME TO THE DARK CARNIVAL, BROTHER!”
Lightning begins to snake its way all throughout his veins and bones and skin. He overloads this pent up rage with every slam into the Nexus, an explosion discharging upon every impact. He's still smiling.
Quote:1199 accordance to Google Docs
Fuck its four am.
Gamzee went Sober and will remain so until the end of battle. 1 SP left, i believe.
If you're new to Omniverse Shenanigans, feel free to pm me about whatever piques your interest!
![[Image: dlpaou6b73f.gif]](http://www.auplod.com/u/dlpaou6b73f.gif)
-by Jade Harley
Never Falter in the Face of Infinity.
-Tearan Wover
-by Jade Harley
Never Falter in the Face of Infinity.
-Tearan Wover