troll problems

[sufferist]

Who: The Sufferer and the Disciple
Where: Somewhere shitty in Los Angeles
When: The morning of March 6th
What: Di tracks down where Signless is staying, and manages to catch up with him because he let himself get stabbed by Karkat like an asshole.
Warnings: Signless being a freak.


It was intended to be a TRIDENT safe house - the kind of place that someone could run to hide in for a few days before escaping to somewhere better. Not much more than a figurative hole in the ground, that's all it was prepared for. Living in it long term, for most people, would have been a deeply unsatisfying experience.

Not so much for this troll. Not when he was still getting his head around the idea of having to do things like eat and sleep still, not when his default action upon having nothing to do was to sit around feeling directionlessly angry and stare into space. Not when he was in the mental state where he had yet to even consider washing off the hand prints and droplets of his own blood the walls or the floor.

It was a few days back that he had allowed the younger troll to attack him, and now he's having a hard time remembering why he thought it was a reasonable idea. Probably because nothing he thinks about these days is especially reasonable.

He'd thrown the bloodied clothing in the corner and ignored it, and until today he hasn't gone out much at all. He's felt confused and disconnected since meeting his descendant, and it was only last evening he remembered that he needed to eat, and that restless feeling that he was disobeying his orders by being so inactive got to him.

He's just sort of drifting off in a corner when an unusual spike of emotion nearby gets his attention. He opens his eyes, but stays where he is, waiting for signs of a threat.

Comments

[scribes]

Are they really going to play this game? It was almost offensive.

"Yes, I am." Her knees bent slightly, ready to move if she attacked, but otherwise she made no motion.

"Signless would not stalk others. Signless would not threaten the lives of others. Signless would not not sneak into the rooms of wigglers to frighten and demean them. And yet you have done all these things, belittled his beliefs of equality and compassion, and have psionics when he did not. You wear his face. You share his blood." She shook her head.

"But you are not him." As she spoke and reminded both of them of his actions, the shock of seeing him wore off and was replaced with certitude--unwavering faith in her words.

[sufferist]

He rises in his stance, since they are apparently stopping to talk. He's angry that she could possibly be implying what she's implying - not about his identity, but her own. At being told he's not himself he just feels empty. He doesn't feel like himself, anyway. It's old news.

"And who are you to decide that?" he asks, and it's an unsubtle test. He wants to draw her out, because he can't quite bring himself to ask.

[scribes]

It's good to see that, but she doesn't allow herself to relax. She knows she's playing with fire here.

"I am the The Disciple." The words are spoken plaintively. It's a title she is proud to wear, but in truth, one she is not really certain she deserves anymore.

[sufferist]

His eyes widen, and then narrow. Without warning, he swings his scythe up towards her neck, stopping only just short of touching skin.

"Liar," he snaps.

[scribes]

He was faster than she had anticipated. Her eyes drop to the blade curled around her neck before raising back to look at him.

What he said--how he said it made her more unnerved than the blade. She had never been quite as empathetic as Signless had been, but she could sense that the anger and temporary shock there hadn't been feigned. At the very least, that was what her heart told her. Her mind kept telling her otherwise.

"Well then, Signless. Tell me, how is it that you can still be alive when your body was burned to a crisp? Why is it that you have turned your back on everything you once purreached of? As I am a phony, it is impawssible fur me to understand."

[sufferist]

He moves in closer - less to press in with his blade, and more to get up in her face. His red eyes glow in the darkness of the morning, the same intensity as his blade.

"Burned to a crisp whereas you apparently lived on for a thousand sweeps without me," he growls.

[scribes]

Survivor's guilt was a nasty thing, and even if she was still far from convinced of the Signless' identity, the reminder that she had lived on still caused that self-condemnation to rise. She should have died by his side. She should have faced the end as they all had. The Dolorosa, the Psiioniic, they had all suffered too. Even now the Disciple was waiting for her turn, but she would fight it, if only because she knew the others would have wanted her to.

She tilted her head to meet his gaze, her own eyes verdant and challenging. She did not feel like she had to explain herself. Did not want to, really, but perhaps in doing so she would get his story--or rather, the one he was going with. In any case him knowing her circumstances wouldn't hurt her in anyway.

"After 'you' had been murdered, they meant to do away with me as well." Her mouth went dry, and for a moment her eyes flickered downward as she forced herself to recall the memory of his last moments. So painful, so agonizing, so. So angry. Not unlike...how this person was acting. Just as quickly, however, she met his eyes once more and they hardened.

"I do not know why, but the Executor did not kill me, and allowed fur my escape. Fur the next sweep and a half I transcribed your sermons to paper once more and began to gain followers again. When I decided it was time to go public once more those followers," a pause, "disagreed. I was put in what they call cryogenic sleep, and recently awakened." Di still had no idea how exactly that worked.

It didn't really seem like it would do her much good to know.

"And now please do regale me with your story."

[sufferist]

He absorbs the story slowly, and it sounds not far off from what he understands of his own. Moreover, he does not sense deceit in her words, and her pain at his insult feels all too real.

He believes. And with that belief comes anger.

"I don't have one," he snarls. "Not for you. Not for 'the Disciple,' when I'm sure you liked my older work so much better. Words you would hold me to, even after having my hands burned from their joints."

[scribes]

It's that last comment, really, that makes her pause the most. Her brow furrows and she frowns deeply at him. A small ebb of doubt begins to creep into her.

"Doubting your own words would be one thing, but going so far as to want to kill Karkat? What could justify that?"

She felt off balance. She doesn't feel that was the direction to take with this conversation, but that had come out before she could even think.

[sufferist]

He lowers his weapon, but only so he can press forward physically, letting his face come uncomfortably close to hers. He has no fear of her. The only think in his eyes is simmering resentment.

"The only justice will be our loathsome civilization paying for its crimes. The time for peace and compassion is over. They will suffer for what they are."

[scribes]

This was wrong. This wasn't what she had been expecting. Di was certain she would find someone who would speak against the Sufferists solely, who would talk about the importance of the hemospectrum or praise the Empire. Instead she found someone who wanted to condemn all of trollkind.

When he leans forward one leg instinctively steps back so she can lean away, frown deepening.

It couldn't be. Could it? Being brought back from the dead, even the people of this time couldn't do such a thing.

...could they? The more she thinks about it the more uncertain she becomes, and when Di opens her mouth to respond she falters. Di doesn't like to think about Signless' last moments. She wants to remember him as he was in life, when he was himself and not driven to rage by the torture of the Empire. It was why she refused to ever use the title Sufferer, and loathed the sign that had been given to him. They are not things he should be defined by.

Yet, ignoring or forgetting them would also be terrible. With her conviction that this was not Signless becoming more and more brittle she did not want to erase or devalue what he had been through.

She swallows and finds her voice again. "And what of the innocents? The ones who still believe and still practice?"

[sufferist]

It's only then that he draws back, his fangs still bared and a cold fury in his eyes. He grips his scythe more tightly again.

"They would suffer that fate regardless," he says.

[scribes]

There wasn't a single thing about this that was not sincere.

It's when she realizes that, that something in Disciple breaks. With that realization, she feels like she has been torn open more than any claws, or any sword, or any scythe could. For a few seconds longer she still tries to bargain, to argue that perhaps this person is just convinced they are the Signless, which is why they are so heartfelt but denial had run its course, and she knew how utterly stupid that was.

Why the hell was this happening? Why could they not have left Signless the peace he deserved? Had he not suffered enough already? No. The answer to that was very obvious. It was still for the exact reason she had suspected earlier--to try and weaken the resolve of the Sufferists by losing their hero but the questions and anger came all the same.

"How can you say that? I know! I know what they did to you. Terrible, loathsome indescribable things but!" Now she was the one who stepped forward, face flushing green, especially around her eyes, "But change is still possible! Didn't you say it yourself? Didn't you have your visions? I would never want anyone to be forced to fight for those visions, especially not you, especially not after what you've been through but to fight against it? Why, Signless?" Her voice broke at the end, and Di hated herself for it but it was taking all her willpower to beat down that anguish that now filled her and not cry.

[sufferist]

He pulls back as she comes forward this time, reluctance hidden behind a defensive posture. His eyes level on her critically - even if he couldn't feel her emotions instinctively, he could hear it in her voice. He knows what the sound of that pain should mean to him.

But he doesn't feel anything. Everything else is consumed by the aching fire inside of him, leaving nothing in its place.

"And now you believe me?" he asks, ignoring her questions. Mostly because he doesn't have the words to answer them.

[scribes]

For a moment everything about her seems to deflate when he deflects the questions like that.

"I do." She gathers herself up again, refusing to quit that easily.

"Signless. Please. Come back with me. Let us talk more. I promise I won't make you do anything you don't want but there's got to be another way." She extended a hand out to him, pleading.

[sufferist]

It's as if that reminds him of what is actually happening - he's not just talking to his ex-lover, he's talking to an enemy. As she extends a pleading hand, he meets it by lashing out with his staff, the end shifting to the shape of a spear as he presses it close.

"I should kill you," he hisses. It could sound like a threat, but it's more like he's stating a fact. Like he's trying to keep himself together.

[scribes]

Her hand jerks back and she looks at him, unsurprised, but hurt nonetheless. She never would have thought that Signless would look at anyone like that, much less her, and yet here they are.

"Would that make you happy? What that make things better?" It's not an offer. Simply a genuine question. She wants to understand what is going through his mind.

[sufferist]

He snarls at that question as if it were a physical threat. He needs to go, he decides. His hiding spot has been found out, and there is nothing more to do here. He needs to get back in and get out and leave.

"It has nothing to do with you!" he shouts, shoving her back with a sudden splash of blood-like aura and then dashing for the entrance of the building.

[scribes]

She stumbled back at the forth of the strange substance, but managed to keep her feet. When gathered herself and saw that Signless was making a run for it she quickly took chase.

"Wait! Signless--Geshua, don't go!"

[sufferist]

Not having the time to fuck around with keys, he breaks open the door instead of unlocking it. He makes a dash for the stairs, to get up to the second level where his hiding hole is, but when it becomes obvious that she's pursuing he turns on her in the stairwell. He wards her back with his spear.

"I am not here for you," he snarls. "You will not stand in my way."

[scribes]

She raced after him, and was running up the stairwell when he turned around. She jerks back at the sudden change and almost falls backwards but her arm shoots out to grab ahold of the bannister just in time.

Di looked up at him, looking so lost. She was far from close to giving up on him, but for the moment with the revelation fresh in mind it was hard to hold herself together. And he, as he was, would clearly not be open or receptive to anything she had to say.

She swallowed the knot in her throat and gave a nod of acknowledgment. "I'll go, Geshua. For now." She wasn't done here, and she was certain they'd meet again. Either by her finding him, or whenever he decided to take his actions against Karkat. She stepped slowly, backwards down the steps till she reached the bottom and she lingered there, a part of her hoping against all that he would stop her.

[sufferist]

His stare on her lingers as she turns to leave, though it isn't clear if it's out of hesitation or if he's simply considering attacking her again. In the end, he doesn't though. His eye follows her until she's just about out of sight, and then he dashes up the stairs to collect his things and go.

All he leaves behind are bloody hand prints and torn clothing.