[Dave stumbles to a stop at the rising panic. Hey, hey, no, shoooooosh, he thinks, or maybe says? He's not sure, all he's thinking of are soft warm hands, of burying his nose in Karkat's (real, trollish) hair, of how nice it feels to rub his hand over Karkat's back. Wonder and deep, almost aching care, softness that brings him to hush.]
shhhhhhhhhh shh im not gonna do that again ok? ok its ok and im ok and the two of us were gonna be ok here in the okest state of being which happens to be called oklahoma
[But even as he tries to soothe Karkat, his own doubt and nerves rise, and he shifts his weight, uncomfortable. He can't really promise that, can he. But, maybe, if they can just make it so it can't happen...]
ok karkat i have sort of a suggestion so bear with me here its kinda kinky?? wait holy shit is palekink a thing please tell me it is jesus christ i HAVE to know anyway it requires you letting me trust you is that cool with you bro
[Whatever it is, he's a little nervous about it--a little embarrassed?--and about how Karkat will take it.]
[... Oh. Oh, fuck, wow, okay, he's feeling calmer. Still distinctly on edge, but the ghost of Dave's hands, his voice, the memory of holding him and being held... He thinks, just maybe, that he won't flip his shit everywhere anymore. Probably. God, he's just happy he'd gotten over the all-encompassing horror/disgust/panic about being human in his first month here (or, uh, mostly gotten over it). At least it was practice at suddenly being in a body that isn't his, and hey, now there's no way he'll ever have to deal with that clusterfuck and this one at the same time. Hahaha. Ha.
Fuck.]
YES, PALEKINK IS A THING. WAIT, THAT FUCK I DIDN'T MEAN TO ADMIT THAT. OK YOU KNOW WHAT? FINE. I NEVER WANTED TO HAVE THIS CONVERSATION BUT SURE, WHY NOT! IT'S NOT SEXUAL. I MEAN, THAT'S KIND OF IT'S OWN ISSUE, WE'RE NOT GOING THERE. YOU'RE PROBABLY CLOSE TO THE MARK ANYWAY, WHATEVER IT IS YOU'RE THINKING OF. YOU REALIZE I'M STILL IN THE GODDAMN WOODS? SOMEONE COULD WALK BY ANY MOMENT AND YOU'RE ASKING ME TO DO SOMETHING KINKY. WHAT THE FUCK, DAVE.
[... He's. Kind of okay with it, actually. Dave can probably sense if there's someone near and warn him, right?]
[Wow, wait, trolls have psychics all over the darn place, is psychic palekink a thing. Dave can totally see it being a thing, shit, how could it not, it'd work so fuckin'...YEAH ANYWAY]
hahahaha oh my god well hey whatever if anyone accidentally catches us being exhibitionistically conciliatory out here theyre at worst going to assume dirks just bonding with his pokemon the perfect crime so anyway um so you know how warts always wearing this bandanna
[Dave sets the PokéGear down as they speak so he can un-knot it, fold it into a red bar wide enough to cover Wart's admittedly humongous anime eyes.]
ARE YOU FUCKING GOING TO ASK ME TO PAP YOU AS WART I MEAN THERE'S PETTING POKÉMON BUT FUCK. I MEAN, I CAN DO IT IF YOU NEED ME TOO, YOU'RE STILL YOU, BUT YOU DON'T NEED TO PAP ME, DAVE. IT'S OK, REALLY. FUCK I AM DELETING THIS CONVERSATION OFF OF DIRK'S POKÉGEAR ASAP, THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I'M NOT GIVING THAT GAPING SEED FLAP ANY AMMUNITION AGAINST EITHER OF US. HOW CAN ANYONE BE THAT INSUFFERABLE ANYWAY, IT DEFIES ALL REASON. I WOULD BREAK HIS SHADES JUST TO MAKE THE ASSHOLE SUFFER, BUT ANNE HATHAWAY HAS THEM.
[Fucking clowns. Anne is nothing like the ones Gamzee used to decorate his respiteblock with, but the association is still enough to sow dread in the pit of his/Dirk's stomach. Fuck clowns, seriously, those honking assholes.]
hahaha no dude its fine i really mean it i am surprisingly chill i guess if i had to meet dirk in person in a weird double halfways fashion this early in the season im glad it was while i was a level 100 psychic beast that can probably lift a car just by thinking at it also hes not as terrifying in person as expected hes kind of an awkward doofus
i am gonna ask you to hold my hand though
[Shhhh, dude, no thinking about clowns, clowns are bad and also lame. He nudges Karkat's thoughts towards, ehhh, what's something safe and calming, wait okay how about Jade? Green and growing things, the smell of fresh earth and the sparkling of stars, laughter without self-consciousness. Jade could beat up anything, Jade will protect them both.
In the meantime, Dave just goes ahead, removes his shades, and blindfolds himself with Wart's bandanna, because this is the cool and rational thought process of a sane dude wearing a Pokémon's skin. Sweet. Darkness.]
...Okay, in hindsight, I should've done this after I pinpointed your coords. Come find me? I got a sense where you are but I can't feel, like. Trees. Or ledges. Fuckin' ledges.
Edited (Sorry needed a word change) 2016-05-27 17:37 (UTC)
[... Level 100 psychic beast. Try and gush a little more about your Pokéchild, Dave, he doesn't think you've induced vomiting in all the local wildlife yet.
(It's cute, Dave is so cute, god he loves this idiot.)
As for the assessment of Dirk... yeah, no. As far as Karkat's concerned, his only redeeming trait is his resemblance to DaAAUGGHH STOP LISTENING, STRIDER.
He's about to type back something to this effect (only less flattering) when he hears Dave's mental voice from oh right there's zero directionality with psychic everything. What even is Wart's range? Fuck.
He heaves an aggravated sigh, runs his PokéGear-free hand through his hair again, then stows the device with the rest of his Dirk's shit. As much as he wishes he could, there's probably no real way he can justify leaving all of it here. Dirk hadn't personally wronged anyone in their group, he'd probably wind up traveling with their group eventually despite Karkat's best efforts because of either John or Jade's unrelenting friendliness or both, and Karkat himself just. Wasn't the sort of troll to fucking do that to people, strand them in hostile territory with nothing to call their own. What kind of bastard would?
Now, if it were Bro...
Snarling wordlessly, he hoists his backpack onto his shoulder and stalks toward the road. The additional height is still giving him trouble (why is the ground so far away, thought someone other than Karkat because he is not a fucking wiggler), but he is damn well going to make the walking thing happen out of spite, so help him.This body will not defeat him.]
Am I at least heading in the right fucking direction?
[He says it aloud without really thinking about it, but the difference between his voice and Dirk's is just jarring enough to make him stumble and reawaken some of his earlier panic because what if it's familiar to Dave for all the wrong reasons, should he not talk at all? Wait, that. That's fucking stupid. Maybe it does sound different enough? Ugh.]
Haha. Follooowwwww the souuuuund of my voiiiiiice.
[But, actually, that's not a bad idea? Dave thinks about it, then cups his hands around his mouth to make a megaphone and says in a voice that's trying to be loud but still isn't really, "Gallaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaade..."]
Anyway, I took a leaf out of Terezi's dead tree codex, I guess. Wart's bandanna makes an okay blindfold if you fold it a couple times, and this way neither of us has to worry about me accidentally catching sight of a miniature Bro out the corner of my eye and jackknifing off the handle into the upper stratosphere.
[His delivery is calm enough, but the faint, metallic taste of shame underlies it. He still feels bad about that, yo. Not cool at all.]
It's just in case. I mean, I just got taken by surprise before, it's not like anybody's accidental resemblance to a hella dead dude can get the jump on me again, it's not like I freak out at MY reflection. [Except sometimes, when he's not awake enough.] But if it'll help...
[He trails off. He just wants Karkat to be comfortable, he doesn't want him to go away.]
Anyway. I bet this'll be kind of fun? For real though, if you steer me into a puddle there will be words.
Karkat has to stop for a second and shut his eyes against the memory of the last time he'd seen her, his bloodpusher starting to race again. Dave doesn't need that mental image (her face streaked with tears, mouth open in a scream, teal and purple blood spattered everywhere), much less the knowledge of exactly what it feels like to be impaled by canekind and dropped in fucking lava. Hahahaha. Hahaha fucking—
He slaps both hands over his face then, after rethinking the matter, just fucking slaps himself a few times. Great fucking job not think about that pink musclebeast, Past Karkat!]
Y-yeah, that—that's a great plan. Perfect!
[Another slap. Fucking useless piece of garbage, stop, stop, stop, stop sooner than that, stop being so worthless, disgusting, pathetic—]
No puddles, haha, you got me, we are totally fucking squared on the puddle situation. Has it even been raining? Where am I supposed to find a puddle? Shall I piss one into existence and go dump myself in it? That would sure show me for hypothetically presuming to steer my moirail into a shallow, liquid-filled depression. Hang on, let me get right on that, I've just spotted the perfect place for it!
[He isn't moving, but only because he's too busy trying really fucking hard not to cry. Please let Dave have not seen that, please...]
[Yeah, sorry, dude, with no other sensory input coming in, asking Dave not to see that is kind of like asking someone with eyes not to see what's roughly one foot in front of them.
The thing about death by canekind is it feels a hell of a lot like death by bladekind, and Karkat's memory smashes right into Dave's like two icebergs, or maybe the better comparison is two Titanics, opening long scrapes in each other's hulls and letting the icy Atlantic in. Dave actually gasps in Wart's body and yanks his brain away for a second, shocked numb, and clutches that weird red thing sticking out of Wart's chest.
There's one in the back, too, just to, you know. Make it look more like he's been bisected by triangle.
It only lasts a second, though, and maybe that's because it only lasted a second, from what Dave remembers. There was an instant of blinding, world-ending pain and then he woke up in a bed with a mom who wasn't his, and...
And eventually, his friends showed up, and it wasn't so bad, being dead and over forever, if he couldn't change anything about it.
Dave breathes, and the wave of regret and grief that emanates out from him is cool, soft, like a ripple in a freshwater pool. He finds Karkat again, presses ghost-hands to his temples to steady him, reminds him of the smell of the woods, of the road.]
Hey. Hey, listen.
[It starts out simply enough, just a quiet, repetitive plinking of guitar strings, but slowly, it shifts into something like this. He invites Karkat along with him as he loses himself in the feel of fingers on vinyl, as he lets every snare beat fall where he wants it, as he remembers heart-stilling chiming sounds into existence.
It's okay. It's okay, Karkat, let it go. Dave won't leave him, not through any of it.]
[Hands on his face. Gentle scents. Music. Karkat covers his mouth with a gloved hand (why the fuck hasn't he taken those off), forces his eyes open just to remind himself that no, Gamzee is not here to jeer at him, then closes them again, listening with desperate focus. Dave's here. He's fine. Everything's fine. Sure he's inhabiting the body of the biggest douchebag to FUCKING EVER unironically assume he'd ever be welcome in their group, but Dave's here and Karkat is totally fucking fine.
... He's trying to be fine. He will be. Really. Just. Just give him a minute.
He listens—"listens" and tries to imagine he's, fuck, what, on a pile? Yes, sitting on a pile with Dave, their foreheads resting together, Dave's hands on his face, don't think about kissing him, don't think about kissing him, don't think about goddammit shit fuck, SITTING ON A PILE IN A TOTALLY INNOCENT, PALE WAY AND NOT INITIATING ANY SLOPPY INTERSPECIES MAKEOUTS OF ANY SORT.
Karkat slaps himself again.]
Dave, say "Gallade" again before I fucking lose it.
[Seriously. He's going to lose it. Any second now.]
[Wait, what was that? Shit, he was concentrating too hard, he missed it. Okay, well, whatever.]
Gallaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaade. Gallade, lade, lalaaade.
[No matter what he tries to say, only the syllables of his species come out. He sighs. This, actually, is the only downside of being Wart. That and being a lot shorter.
He's calm again, but that stabbing pain (haha) sure lowered his mood a lot. He tries to hold onto the memory of the music, and night trickles through to Karkat, nights he was eleven years old pressing padded headphones against his ears with nothing but this song in them, telling himself it'd be okay, someone loved him (would love him, someday, if he made it) like that, like he was worth something just for existing.]
Man, this Pokétalk thing is really crimping my style.
[—He didn't notice? He didn't notice, thank god, thank god, moirallegiance saved. Hahahahahahahaa fuck Karkat wishes he had an actual pile to collapse into. With Dave. For cuddles only.]
At least it'll be easier to rap? You rhyme automatically.
[Yeah, he's slightly hysterical from relief, what of it. His mouth is doing some twitchy, spasmodic pseudo-smile thing, too, which is probably a bad sign, and he thinks he'd probably like to puke somewhere, but it's fine. Everything's fine.
... Dave feeling like that isn't fine, though, and Karkat's "smile" drops immediately as he resumes stalking toward that voice. It isn't far, he thinks, and sure enough, once he turns the corner...
There. Finally.
Crushing the impulse to run up to the Pokémon and hug him, Karkat instead approaches very sedately and, okay yeah no, he's closing that gap as quickly as his poor control over Dirk's stupidly long legs allows and embracing the fuck out of Dave/Wart. He has a feeling there are certain things he shouldn't say with Dirk's voice, just because, but he is absolutely thinking as loudly and as clearly as he can, Pale for you. Shoosh.
[Dave picks up on Karkat's closeness just in time to start to turn and then, whup, hug. He can't help it, he can't see but he knows it's Dirk and his first instinct is to compare, to brace himself for a second just in case it feels like big-powerful-steel-faced Bro without an inch of give to him, but it doesn't. It's fine. It's not the same as hugging Karkat except it is, because it is Karkat, and he's hugging back and snuggling in like he belongs even if it's a little bit new.]
Hey.
[This is a lot better. He's sorry about the stupid chest triangle poking Karkat in Dirk's ribs, and he has to be careful with his head so he doesn't smack anybody in the snout with his crest thing, but this is better. Stuff is weird without Karkat around.]
I bet you could pick me up now. Have you tried lifting anything yet?
[Definitely weird. Just. So fucking weird. A universe without Dave just isn't worth contemplating. Oh god, he heard that, didn't he? Time to change the subject, a task made far simpler by the fact that Dave said what.]
Are you fucking implying that Dirk is stronger than I am? Fuck you. Fuck you and also no, I have not. I mean, I lifted his backpack, but that doesn't count.
[Shut up, it so doesn't. He does passingly consider pulling back from Dave just enough to recheck Wart's dimensions, but since that means, well, pulling back, he doesn't. He really could not give fewer shits about poking himself with chest triangles right now, don't even fuss.]
Besides, I gave you enough hoofbeast rides when you were a wiggler. Are you trying to squeeze more out of me? Because it's not going to fucking happen.
[Little psychic shiver of amusement. It's kind of like Dave's regular sotto voce laughter anyway, a thing more sensed than heard.]
But Katkat...!
[Just drapes blindly over this asshole in another asshole's body. Come on, come on, carry him, he's like made out of fairy wishes and spun sugar, he can't weigh that much. (He weighs 114 pounds.)]
Katkat, I'm scared of the dark. Pleeeeeeease?
[He's still snickering mentally, which sort of ruins the effect, but, meh.]
[He's trying to sound angry, he is, but there's no disguising his sheer delight at this shift in Dave's mood. It's one thing to see when he's cheerful or amused, something else entirely to actually feel it. Karkat's resolve may be melting just a little, even if Dave probably doesn't mean it.]
It's morning, you shit. And don't call me Katkat. One-sweep-old you was cute enough for it, but, all respect to Wart, a Gallade isn't. Why would you want me to carry you, anyway?
[They aren't that far from town, are they? ... Wait, shit, are they?]
Um, why wouldn't I? Getting carried is like the pinnacle of hugs. Squishy cuddle times and ecologically friendly transportation, who the fuck would not take advantage of that two-for-one Sunday bargain deal.
[He relents, though, and starts to look for Karkat's hand. Well. "Look." It involves, for some reason, a lot of face-patting and overplayed incompetence.]
Also, fuck you, it's dark from my perspective. Where are your digits, I require them, chop chop.
[No, they are not far from town. And if they were, Dave wouldn't ask Karkat to carry him, shit would just be rude, Wart has legs, he can walk.]
[Pinnacle of hugs. This fucking idiot. Karkat is nearly tempted to suggest that Dave try carrying him if it's so fucking magical, but then he remembers that oh wait right, he has pride.
... Sort of has pride. Wow, okay, that took a turn. Let's move on.]
You don't get to bitch about it being dark when you wear sunglasses all the fucking time.
[Including when he's indoors at night, and yes, fine, being blindfolded may be different from wearing sunglasses, but the distinction is one Karkat doesn't really want to mention given the reasons why Dave is blindfolded. Dirk isn't... actually that hard to look at for other reasons, none of which he's thinking about, but then the urge to plant a fist in his face probably negates those. Mostly.
He tolerates/enjoys the ridiculous face patting for all of a second more before catching Dave's hand in his own and giving it a small squeeze.]
Are you done flailing around yet?
[... he could probably stand to sound a little less nauseatingly affectionate, but oh well.]
[It's kind of funny. When they're feeling bad, they both drag each other down to the bottom, but things like this? Karkat feels so...so warm in his head, and it makes Dave brighten and that makes Karkat happier, and it's just...
It's nice. If experiencing every modicum of conscious thought like a sound or a touch weren't so goddamn distracting and headache-inducing, Dave could almost get used to it.
He squeezes Karkat's hand gently back, interested in how different it feels against Wart's little green palm--but then, it's sort of not Karkat's hand, so maybe that makes sense. Man, it'd kinda be neat if they turned back at different times...]
Am I ever done, dude?
[So, yeah, he's done. He turns his head a little, remembers again that there's little point to trying to look around, and then dips his head at Karkat.]
Okay, (goodfriend-trust-pride-silly-safe-wanttotouch-sosodear) Karkat. Make with the seeing-eye and let's bounce.
[This had better not be the start of some kind of Strider flailing epidemic, that's all he can fucking say. Presumably, once Dave is no longer blindfolded... if either of them even want to risk him not being blindfolded. Ugh. Forget it.
Karkat's rapidly blackening mood lifts again at that series of thoughts/feelings/impressions, at least, but not without a quiet snort. Seeing-eye what, exactly? Some inexplicable human thing, probably, if the trend holds true.]
We agreed no puddles, but neither of us said anything about tripping you flat on your fucking face.
[... except for how unfair it would be to Wart if he were to be seriously injured by that. Karkat wouldn't do it to regular Dave, either, but that might depend on how thoroughly annoying he's being. Maybe.]
I'd sense your malicious intent before you could go through with it, dicknoodle. The only one taking a pratfall here would be you.
[...Though, he's getting the sense that maybe he leaks more than he picks up on? Shit.]
...Probably.
[His little hand tightens in Karkat's. He's not afraid, really--how can he be when it's Karkat--but he is blind and it's slightly unnerving how much he suddenly doesn't know about what's around him.]
Come on, you wouldn't do that to Wart. Anyway, you gotta lead, dude, I have no idea how to get back to town like this.
[Dave, why did you have to mention human dicks. Maybe both of them should avoid all mention of genitalia from this point onward, even if that probably robs both of them of, say, twenty percent of their vocabulary. Or maybe that's just Karkat. Fuck, is it always this hard to focus or is he just hyper-aware of eVERY SINGLE FUCKING THOUGHT NOW BECAUSE SOME BLOND ASSHOLE IS LISTENING IN ON THEM.
It could be worse, he supposes. He doesn't think he'd be able to look Jade in the eye for a sweep if she ever saw into his head, however complicated his feelings for Dave have become.]
Wart maybe, but you?
[Why is he even trying. He does get on with the leading thing, though, his attention mostly on Dave... and where Dave is stepping, the area surrounding him, his proximity to other objects. If focusing on sensory data helps Dave to "see" better, it's the least he can do even if it feels overly intimate. Is that what he'd meant by palekink?]
You insult me. As if a man of my caliber would think through anything, ever.
[It's less that he's listening and more that he's just aware, like being in another room while someone's having a phone conversation, aware of the rises and falls in tone but not the words. Now that he has to concentrate on walking and talking rather than exploring Karkat's mindscape, Dave just gets impressions. He thinks that's a flicker of Jade, maybe? And before that, that was exaggerated yelling, probably aimed at him.
It's not as loud as the concern, though. No, loud isn't the word, it's just. Clear. Karkat's focused on him, and the attention's coming through, the care. Like always, it makes Dave feel a little warm and shivery inside, very aware of things like his (Wart's?) heartbeat.]
Come on, it's not like people keep me around for my intellect. If they did, Rose would be out of a brainy blonde shtick, and I can't do that to my own sister. Branding is important.
[And he is, a little, but he's mostly still trying to make certain that Dave isn't about to collide with anything. Maybe they'll get back to the hotel without incident after all? Who the fuck is he kidding, it's all going to go pear-shaped eventually. He just has to make sure he doesn't lose his fucking head again when that happens.]
People don't keep you around for your looks, either. Hate to break it to you. Why did you think you were so popular?
Whoa, you take that filthy slander back right the fuck now.
[The response is so automatic he only registers popular? (a brush of surprise-pleasure-uncertainty) a second after he replies, but he apparently doesn't find that worthy of comment--or, more likely, of risking the vulnerability of letting anyone know he didn't think he was popular.]
People want me for my body exclusively. Multitudes gaze upon my pasty chicken legs and whisper benedictions upon them, blessing all forces that be for the opportunity to bear witness to someone so goddamn fly.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text + idek man
shhhhhhhhhh
shh
im not gonna do that again ok? ok
its ok and im ok and the two of us were gonna be ok here in the okest state of being which happens to be called oklahoma
[But even as he tries to soothe Karkat, his own doubt and nerves rise, and he shifts his weight, uncomfortable. He can't really promise that, can he. But, maybe, if they can just make it so it can't happen...]
ok karkat i have sort of a suggestion so bear with me here
its
kinda kinky??
wait holy shit is palekink a thing please tell me it is jesus christ i HAVE to know
anyway it requires you letting me trust you is that cool with you bro
[Whatever it is, he's a little nervous about it--a little embarrassed?--and about how Karkat will take it.]
text + psychic input/output shenanigans
Fuck.]
YES, PALEKINK IS A THING.
WAIT, THAT
FUCK I DIDN'T MEAN TO ADMIT THAT. OK YOU KNOW WHAT? FINE. I NEVER WANTED TO HAVE THIS CONVERSATION BUT SURE, WHY NOT!
IT'S NOT SEXUAL. I MEAN, THAT'S
KIND OF IT'S OWN ISSUE, WE'RE NOT GOING THERE. YOU'RE PROBABLY CLOSE TO THE MARK ANYWAY, WHATEVER IT IS YOU'RE THINKING OF.
YOU REALIZE I'M STILL IN THE GODDAMN WOODS? SOMEONE COULD WALK BY ANY MOMENT AND YOU'RE ASKING ME TO DO SOMETHING KINKY. WHAT THE FUCK, DAVE.
[... He's. Kind of okay with it, actually. Dave can probably sense if there's someone near and warn him, right?]
text + psychic input/output shenanigans, yes
hahahaha oh my god
well hey whatever if anyone accidentally catches us being exhibitionistically conciliatory out here theyre at worst going to assume dirks just bonding with his pokemon
the perfect crime
so anyway um
so you know how warts always wearing this bandanna
[Dave sets the PokéGear down as they speak so he can un-knot it, fold it into a red bar wide enough to cover Wart's admittedly humongous anime eyes.]
text + psychic input/output shenans for short
ARE YOU FUCKING GOING TO ASK ME TO PAP YOU AS WART
I MEAN THERE'S PETTING POKÉMON BUT
FUCK. I MEAN, I CAN DO IT IF YOU NEED ME TOO, YOU'RE STILL YOU, BUT
YOU DON'T NEED TO PAP ME, DAVE. IT'S OK, REALLY.
FUCK I AM DELETING THIS CONVERSATION OFF OF DIRK'S POKÉGEAR ASAP, THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I'M NOT GIVING THAT GAPING SEED FLAP ANY AMMUNITION AGAINST EITHER OF US.
HOW CAN ANYONE BE THAT INSUFFERABLE ANYWAY, IT DEFIES ALL REASON. I WOULD BREAK HIS SHADES JUST TO MAKE THE ASSHOLE SUFFER, BUT ANNE HATHAWAY HAS THEM.
[Fucking clowns. Anne is nothing like the ones Gamzee used to decorate his respiteblock with, but the association is still enough to sow dread in the pit of his/Dirk's stomach. Fuck clowns, seriously, those honking assholes.]
text + psychic I/O
i really mean it i am surprisingly chill
i guess if i had to meet dirk in person in a weird double halfways fashion this early in the season im glad it was while i was a level 100 psychic beast that can probably lift a car just by thinking at it
also hes not as terrifying in person as expected
hes kind of an awkward doofus
i am gonna ask you to hold my hand though
[Shhhh, dude, no thinking about clowns, clowns are bad and also lame. He nudges Karkat's thoughts towards, ehhh, what's something safe and calming, wait okay how about Jade? Green and growing things, the smell of fresh earth and the sparkling of stars, laughter without self-consciousness. Jade could beat up anything, Jade will protect them both.
In the meantime, Dave just goes ahead, removes his shades, and blindfolds himself with Wart's bandanna, because this is the cool and rational thought process of a sane dude wearing a Pokémon's skin. Sweet. Darkness.]
...Okay, in hindsight, I should've done this after I pinpointed your coords. Come find me? I got a sense where you are but I can't feel, like. Trees. Or ledges. Fuckin' ledges.
action + psychic I/O
(It's cute, Dave is so cute, god he loves this idiot.)
As for the assessment of Dirk... yeah, no. As far as Karkat's concerned, his only redeeming trait is his resemblance to DaAAUGGHH STOP LISTENING, STRIDER.
He's about to type back something to this effect (only less flattering) when he hears Dave's mental voice from oh right there's zero directionality with psychic everything. What even is Wart's range? Fuck.
He heaves an aggravated sigh, runs his PokéGear-free hand through his hair again, then stows the device with the rest of his Dirk's shit. As much as he wishes he could, there's probably no real way he can justify leaving all of it here. Dirk hadn't personally wronged anyone in their group, he'd probably wind up traveling with their group eventually despite Karkat's best efforts because of either John or Jade's unrelenting friendliness or both, and Karkat himself just. Wasn't the sort of troll to fucking do that to people, strand them in hostile territory with nothing to call their own. What kind of bastard would?
Now, if it were Bro...
Snarling wordlessly, he hoists his backpack onto his shoulder and stalks toward the road. The additional height is still giving him trouble (why is the ground so far away, thought someone other than Karkat because he is not a fucking wiggler), but he is damn well going to make the walking thing happen out of spite, so help him.This body will not defeat him.]
Am I at least heading in the right fucking direction?
[He says it aloud without really thinking about it, but the difference between his voice and Dirk's is just jarring enough to make him stumble and reawaken some of his earlier panic because what if it's familiar to Dave for all the wrong reasons, should he not talk at all? Wait, that. That's fucking stupid. Maybe it does sound different enough? Ugh.]
What did you do?
action + psychic I/O
[But, actually, that's not a bad idea? Dave thinks about it, then cups his hands around his mouth to make a megaphone and says in a voice that's trying to be loud but still isn't really, "Gallaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaade..."]
Anyway, I took a leaf out of Terezi's dead tree codex, I guess. Wart's bandanna makes an okay blindfold if you fold it a couple times, and this way neither of us has to worry about me accidentally catching sight of a miniature Bro out the corner of my eye and jackknifing off the handle into the upper stratosphere.
[His delivery is calm enough, but the faint, metallic taste of shame underlies it. He still feels bad about that, yo. Not cool at all.]
It's just in case. I mean, I just got taken by surprise before, it's not like anybody's accidental resemblance to a hella dead dude can get the jump on me again, it's not like I freak out at MY reflection. [Except sometimes, when he's not awake enough.] But if it'll help...
[He trails off. He just wants Karkat to be comfortable, he doesn't want him to go away.]
Anyway. I bet this'll be kind of fun? For real though, if you steer me into a puddle there will be words.
action + psychic I/O, [S] Game Over bonus edition
Karkat has to stop for a second and shut his eyes against the memory of the last time he'd seen her, his bloodpusher starting to race again. Dave doesn't need that mental image (her face streaked with tears, mouth open in a scream, teal and purple blood spattered everywhere), much less the knowledge of exactly what it feels like to be impaled by canekind and dropped in fucking lava. Hahahaha. Hahaha fucking—
He slaps both hands over his face then, after rethinking the matter, just fucking slaps himself a few times. Great fucking job not think about that pink musclebeast, Past Karkat!]
Y-yeah, that—that's a great plan. Perfect!
[Another slap. Fucking useless piece of garbage, stop, stop, stop, stop sooner than that, stop being so worthless, disgusting, pathetic—]
No puddles, haha, you got me, we are totally fucking squared on the puddle situation. Has it even been raining? Where am I supposed to find a puddle? Shall I piss one into existence and go dump myself in it? That would sure show me for hypothetically presuming to steer my moirail into a shallow, liquid-filled depression. Hang on, let me get right on that, I've just spotted the perfect place for it!
[He isn't moving, but only because he's too busy trying really fucking hard not to cry. Please let Dave have not seen that, please...]
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The thing about death by canekind is it feels a hell of a lot like death by bladekind, and Karkat's memory smashes right into Dave's like two icebergs, or maybe the better comparison is two Titanics, opening long scrapes in each other's hulls and letting the icy Atlantic in. Dave actually gasps in Wart's body and yanks his brain away for a second, shocked numb, and clutches that weird red thing sticking out of Wart's chest.
There's one in the back, too, just to, you know. Make it look more like he's been bisected by triangle.
It only lasts a second, though, and maybe that's because it only lasted a second, from what Dave remembers. There was an instant of blinding, world-ending pain and then he woke up in a bed with a mom who wasn't his, and...
And eventually, his friends showed up, and it wasn't so bad, being dead and over forever, if he couldn't change anything about it.
Dave breathes, and the wave of regret and grief that emanates out from him is cool, soft, like a ripple in a freshwater pool. He finds Karkat again, presses ghost-hands to his temples to steady him, reminds him of the smell of the woods, of the road.]
Hey. Hey, listen.
[It starts out simply enough, just a quiet, repetitive plinking of guitar strings, but slowly, it shifts into something like this. He invites Karkat along with him as he loses himself in the feel of fingers on vinyl, as he lets every snare beat fall where he wants it, as he remembers heart-stilling chiming sounds into existence.
It's okay. It's okay, Karkat, let it go. Dave won't leave him, not through any of it.]
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... He's trying to be fine. He will be. Really. Just. Just give him a minute.
He listens—"listens" and tries to imagine he's, fuck, what, on a pile? Yes, sitting on a pile with Dave, their foreheads resting together, Dave's hands on his face, don't think about kissing him, don't think about kissing him, don't think about goddammit shit fuck, SITTING ON A PILE IN A TOTALLY INNOCENT, PALE WAY AND NOT INITIATING ANY SLOPPY INTERSPECIES MAKEOUTS OF ANY SORT.
Karkat slaps himself again.]
Dave, say "Gallade" again before I fucking lose it.
[Seriously. He's going to lose it. Any second now.]
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Gallaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaade. Gallade, lade, lalaaade.
[No matter what he tries to say, only the syllables of his species come out. He sighs. This, actually, is the only downside of being Wart. That and being a lot shorter.
He's calm again, but that stabbing pain (haha) sure lowered his mood a lot. He tries to hold onto the memory of the music, and night trickles through to Karkat, nights he was eleven years old pressing padded headphones against his ears with nothing but this song in them, telling himself it'd be okay, someone loved him (would love him, someday, if he made it) like that, like he was worth something just for existing.]
Man, this Pokétalk thing is really crimping my style.
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At least it'll be easier to rap? You rhyme automatically.
[Yeah, he's slightly hysterical from relief, what of it. His mouth is doing some twitchy, spasmodic pseudo-smile thing, too, which is probably a bad sign, and he thinks he'd probably like to puke somewhere, but it's fine. Everything's fine.
... Dave feeling like that isn't fine, though, and Karkat's "smile" drops immediately as he resumes stalking toward that voice. It isn't far, he thinks, and sure enough, once he turns the corner...
There. Finally.
Crushing the impulse to run up to the Pokémon and hug him, Karkat instead approaches very sedately and, okay yeah no, he's closing that gap as quickly as his poor control over Dirk's stupidly long legs allows and embracing the fuck out of Dave/Wart. He has a feeling there are certain things he shouldn't say with Dirk's voice, just because, but he is absolutely thinking as loudly and as clearly as he can, Pale for you. Shoosh.
Out loud, it's something very different.]
... Sorry.
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Hey.
[This is a lot better. He's sorry about the stupid chest triangle poking Karkat in Dirk's ribs, and he has to be careful with his head so he doesn't smack anybody in the snout with his crest thing, but this is better. Stuff is weird without Karkat around.]
I bet you could pick me up now. Have you tried lifting anything yet?
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Are you fucking implying that Dirk is stronger than I am? Fuck you. Fuck you and also no, I have not. I mean, I lifted his backpack, but that doesn't count.
[Shut up, it so doesn't. He does passingly consider pulling back from Dave just enough to recheck Wart's dimensions, but since that means, well, pulling back, he doesn't. He really could not give fewer shits about poking himself with chest triangles right now, don't even fuss.]
Besides, I gave you enough hoofbeast rides when you were a wiggler. Are you trying to squeeze more out of me? Because it's not going to fucking happen.
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But Katkat...!
[Just drapes blindly over this asshole in another asshole's body. Come on, come on, carry him, he's like made out of fairy wishes and spun sugar, he can't weigh that much. (He weighs 114 pounds.)]
Katkat, I'm scared of the dark. Pleeeeeeease?
[He's still snickering mentally, which sort of ruins the effect, but, meh.]
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[He's trying to sound angry, he is, but there's no disguising his sheer delight at this shift in Dave's mood. It's one thing to see when he's cheerful or amused, something else entirely to actually feel it. Karkat's resolve may be melting just a little, even if Dave probably doesn't mean it.]
It's morning, you shit. And don't call me Katkat. One-sweep-old you was cute enough for it, but, all respect to Wart, a Gallade isn't. Why would you want me to carry you, anyway?
[They aren't that far from town, are they? ... Wait, shit, are they?]
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[He relents, though, and starts to look for Karkat's hand. Well. "Look." It involves, for some reason, a lot of face-patting and overplayed incompetence.]
Also, fuck you, it's dark from my perspective. Where are your digits, I require them, chop chop.
[No, they are not far from town. And if they were, Dave wouldn't ask Karkat to carry him, shit would just be rude, Wart has legs, he can walk.]
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... Sort of has pride. Wow, okay, that took a turn. Let's move on.]
You don't get to bitch about it being dark when you wear sunglasses all the fucking time.
[Including when he's indoors at night, and yes, fine, being blindfolded may be different from wearing sunglasses, but the distinction is one Karkat doesn't really want to mention given the reasons why Dave is blindfolded. Dirk isn't... actually that hard to look at for other reasons, none of which he's thinking about, but then the urge to plant a fist in his face probably negates those. Mostly.
He tolerates/enjoys the ridiculous face patting for all of a second more before catching Dave's hand in his own and giving it a small squeeze.]
Are you done flailing around yet?
[... he could probably stand to sound a little less nauseatingly affectionate, but oh well.]
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It's nice. If experiencing every modicum of conscious thought like a sound or a touch weren't so goddamn distracting and headache-inducing, Dave could almost get used to it.
He squeezes Karkat's hand gently back, interested in how different it feels against Wart's little green palm--but then, it's sort of not Karkat's hand, so maybe that makes sense. Man, it'd kinda be neat if they turned back at different times...]
Am I ever done, dude?
[So, yeah, he's done. He turns his head a little, remembers again that there's little point to trying to look around, and then dips his head at Karkat.]
Okay, (goodfriend-trust-pride-silly-safe-wanttotouch-sosodear) Karkat. Make with the seeing-eye and let's bounce.
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Karkat's rapidly blackening mood lifts again at that series of thoughts/feelings/impressions, at least, but not without a quiet snort. Seeing-eye what, exactly? Some inexplicable human thing, probably, if the trend holds true.]
We agreed no puddles, but neither of us said anything about tripping you flat on your fucking face.
[... except for how unfair it would be to Wart if he were to be seriously injured by that. Karkat wouldn't do it to regular Dave, either, but that might depend on how thoroughly annoying he's being. Maybe.]
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[...Though, he's getting the sense that maybe he leaks more than he picks up on? Shit.]
...Probably.
[His little hand tightens in Karkat's. He's not afraid, really--how can he be when it's Karkat--but he is blind and it's slightly unnerving how much he suddenly doesn't know about what's around him.]
Come on, you wouldn't do that to Wart. Anyway, you gotta lead, dude, I have no idea how to get back to town like this.
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It could be worse, he supposes. He doesn't think he'd be able to look Jade in the eye for a sweep if she ever saw into his head, however complicated his feelings for Dave have become.]
Wart maybe, but you?
[Why is he even trying. He does get on with the leading thing, though, his attention mostly on Dave... and where Dave is stepping, the area surrounding him, his proximity to other objects. If focusing on sensory data helps Dave to "see" better, it's the least he can do even if it feels overly intimate. Is that what he'd meant by palekink?]
You didn't think this through at all, did you?
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[It's less that he's listening and more that he's just aware, like being in another room while someone's having a phone conversation, aware of the rises and falls in tone but not the words. Now that he has to concentrate on walking and talking rather than exploring Karkat's mindscape, Dave just gets impressions. He thinks that's a flicker of Jade, maybe? And before that, that was exaggerated yelling, probably aimed at him.
It's not as loud as the concern, though. No, loud isn't the word, it's just. Clear. Karkat's focused on him, and the attention's coming through, the care. Like always, it makes Dave feel a little warm and shivery inside, very aware of things like his (Wart's?) heartbeat.]
Come on, it's not like people keep me around for my intellect. If they did, Rose would be out of a brainy blonde shtick, and I can't do that to my own sister. Branding is important.
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I'm rolling my eyes, just so you know.
[And he is, a little, but he's mostly still trying to make certain that Dave isn't about to collide with anything. Maybe they'll get back to the hotel without incident after all? Who the fuck is he kidding, it's all going to go pear-shaped eventually. He just has to make sure he doesn't lose his fucking head again when that happens.]
People don't keep you around for your looks, either. Hate to break it to you. Why did you think you were so popular?
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[The response is so automatic he only registers popular? (a brush of surprise-pleasure-uncertainty) a second after he replies, but he apparently doesn't find that worthy of comment--or, more likely, of risking the vulnerability of letting anyone know he didn't think he was popular.]
People want me for my body exclusively. Multitudes gaze upon my pasty chicken legs and whisper benedictions upon them, blessing all forces that be for the opportunity to bear witness to someone so goddamn fly.
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