Aftermath

[Gamzee Makara]

Gamzee kinna just wandered around the medical enclosure for a while. Then, when he was bored of that, he wandered across the empty battlefield like a lonely spectre. There was this weird heaviness in the atmosphere, something that was all kinds of new and uncomfortable to the alien teen. Except that it wasn’t exactly a bad feeling, it was just there. Very present and tangible, something that he assumed he was going to have to get used to. The quietness of no man’s land after the battle was a surreal thing. The stench of blood and mud a-and things burning so much burning.

It was a little much.

But something about this atmosphere felt natural to Gamzee. It was as if every breath he took walking through the fields of death felt clear and collected, despite the heavy musk of dead things. Quite frankly, it scares him a little bit. Sure, trolls were used to killing each other for shits and giggles, but all of this unnecessary death really should’ve been killing his good vibes. It wasn’t - hence his uneasiness. That’s a good word for this feeling. Uneasiness. Soothing uneasiness. As he carefully hopscotched through a muddy patch of ruined road, his head was full of brain soup. Everything feels muggy and invigorating at the same time and it was a very frustrating feeling because the poor clown can’t quite figure out how all this death and decay REALLY makes him feel.

On one hand, his body felt like he had just chugged a gallon or four of Faygo. He could almost feel that wicked elixir coursing through his veins. On the other, he just feels so very sad, and a little disgusted with how amazing the atmosphere makes him feel. I mean sure the fighting was hella good fun, all smashy and bashy and clowning around, but then again he wasn’t lying face down in the mud juggling his entrails like half of these poor secondary dudes.

“That’s me, brother. That’s all me.”

Gamzee stops in his tracks and whirls around so fast he almost slips. He opens his mouth to speak, to ask a question, but no sound comes out. He’s afraid that if he said something it’d be his voice or that the voice would be him or something equally nonsensical.

“All this chaos and entropy and shit. Feels good man. Real good.”

No, nononono, no. He was not doing this right now. This is not something that’s happening. Gamzee starts running back in the direction of life and safety, towards the medical tents and military encampments.

“Oh don’t mind me, motherfucker. I’m straight coolin’ in this bitchin’ head of yours. Hella chillin’.”

“Shut up,” Gamzee murmurs to himself, almost tripping over a couple of corpses in his mad sprint.

“Just wait, brother. It’s a wicked reckoning coming on. It’s a Murder Party, motherfucker! And you’re the hos-”

The voice fades into the recesses of his mind, out of Gamzee’s mental reach as he nearly smacks right into tent of vague importance. The canvas smacks him out of his fervor, bringing him back to earth. Or uh, Omniverse. Whatever. Maybe he should find Strawso, ask him if this was a normal part of getting in touch with the magey part of his ragey side... Or if he should go ahead and start swilling slime again. Gamzee tilts his head to the sky, unsure of who to pray to anymore. The Mirthful Messiahs aren’t here, man, just that Omni dude. And even if they were, they probably couldn’t help him with this. It’s gonna take more than every miracle conceivable.

His attention is brought to the particular portion of sky that happens to have spears of white energy being shot through it, the particular portion of sky that happens to be right above the breach.

-------

It wasn’t hard to find Strazio Rockwell; all the alien had to do was follow the sounds of a cranky rage mage. Gamzee wasn’t really sure what was happening, but it seemed to require the attention of someone who was pretty good at the talking thing.

“Whoooooaaaaaaakay there I’m kinda with the green guy on this one. I’ve seen enough of all that dyin’ shit today. No more killin’, no sir.”

Something felt weird about saying that. Gamzee wasn’t sure if he was really one hundred percent certain as every word coming out of his mouth. That didn’t matter though, all he had to do was say it with feeling. Strazio raised an eyebrow at his apprentice. The smokey, creepy motherfucker tilts his head a bit to the left, apparently bemused by the interruption.

Valerie was the first to respond. He did so with a pleasant tone and smile, clasping his hands together. “Ah! Finally, another level-headed individual. How fortuitous.”