06-22-2017, 03:22 AM
Gamzee shuffled towards the safe house in silence. He followed his Syntech map, staring at it and just vaguely expecting the knowledge necessary to read it would just magically absorb or appear into his mind via prolonged exposure. He wasn't really sure why he felt so compelled to travel downtown, but he felt extreme disturbances in the Whimsy and Mirth that simply could not be ignored. Anyone having a carefree, jovial time in such trying circumstances was a motherfucker Gamzee just HAD to meet.
"Huh. Wouldja look at that?"
The High-Blood sucks in his breath. That voice, that motherfuckin' voice.
"You haven't killed anyone yet. We haven't killed anyone yet."
How it haunts his head space, how it invades his mind with no quarter.
"How long you think you can keep that up? Motherfucker?"
"Just be quiet. Silence and shit, please thas all I want right now," Gamzee practically begs, talking to no one but himself.
"Ah, well shit, s'not like you have much of a say in that, do ya, you sorry excuse for a High-Blood? Look at yourself. Downright shameful, pitiful. Undeserving of the title Subjugglator.
He didn't want that. He didn't want any of this. Gamzee groans, his head threatening to burst at the seams. Suddenly his bum leg is throbbing, and he finds himself relying heavily on his cane. He needed to rest, needed to make it to the safe house so he could sleep and wake up and the voices would be GONE, fwoosh, disappearing act starring a crazy, schizophrenic clown.
And then he shut his eyes and squeezed as tightly as he had ever squinched before and then and then and then
He was there. He collapsed, curled up in one of those hella roll-y, hella comfy office chairs. A single purple tear trailed down his left cheek. It wasn't enough to wash away his face paint.
"Huh. Wouldja look at that?"
The High-Blood sucks in his breath. That voice, that motherfuckin' voice.
"You haven't killed anyone yet. We haven't killed anyone yet."
How it haunts his head space, how it invades his mind with no quarter.
"How long you think you can keep that up? Motherfucker?"
"Just be quiet. Silence and shit, please thas all I want right now," Gamzee practically begs, talking to no one but himself.
"Ah, well shit, s'not like you have much of a say in that, do ya, you sorry excuse for a High-Blood? Look at yourself. Downright shameful, pitiful. Undeserving of the title Subjugglator.
He didn't want that. He didn't want any of this. Gamzee groans, his head threatening to burst at the seams. Suddenly his bum leg is throbbing, and he finds himself relying heavily on his cane. He needed to rest, needed to make it to the safe house so he could sleep and wake up and the voices would be GONE, fwoosh, disappearing act starring a crazy, schizophrenic clown.
And then he shut his eyes and squeezed as tightly as he had ever squinched before and then and then and then
He was there. He collapsed, curled up in one of those hella roll-y, hella comfy office chairs. A single purple tear trailed down his left cheek. It wasn't enough to wash away his face paint.
Quote:C21 ->SHC
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-by Jade Harley
Never Falter in the Face of Infinity.
-Tearan Wover
-by Jade Harley
Never Falter in the Face of Infinity.
-Tearan Wover