rakuen | 001 ♑ open log

Entry tags:

001 ♑ open log

Characters: Gamzee and roommates?
Format: Prose is what I'd rather use at the moment, but it can switch to action later.
This log is: Open
Location: Fortitude, Pale 2-A
Summary: Gamzee's not feeling well at all... are you really going to bug him?
Warnings: He'll probably be aggressive if your character speaks to him.

His head hurts.

No, 'hurts' isn't right. More like throbs. More like he's in agony, each second passing slowly and torturously. He wonders if his head is going to explode, if he's going to snap and break and shatter, wonders if he'll coat the walls with indigo. The bright of the sun, that motherfucking sun, makes him want to claw his own eyes out because it just won't leave, and it doesn't burn his skin but he wishes it would because then maybe he'd be put out of his misery.

It'd started slow, but the battles and the rush and blur of everything, the talking and yammering and nobody shuts the motherfuck up around here only made things worse. He's in his room, and thank the mirthful messiahs, it's empty, how painfully miraculous. He doesn't even want to think, doesn't want to feel, because with the headache comes a stomach ache -- and his muscles, they ache, too. It's strange and maybe it's just because of the shock -- but wouldn't that only be mental stress? It just feels like something's missing. Felt like that for a long while, since he got here, and he's not even sure how many days have passed but its been getting worse and worse, and now it's at its peak. Maybe it's just got to get worse before it gets better, but he doesn't think he'll make it to the 'get better' part.

So he's left to grab his PDA and a blanket, maybe two, okay three, and he doesn't care whos they are and just wraps himself in a cocoon. It's the first comforting feeling, with warm, suffocating walls wrapped around him, he's felt since he got here. Everything's too bright and now it's dark, and the burn and throb of his eyes and head slow. So he's in a quiet corner, praying the pain and the -- urge -- to just hurt someone leave. ( That's another thing he'd felt, anger, like that quick whip of irriational anger he'd felt upon learning he'd be a weapon the first week. But now it grows; and it does not leave, even though he hides it behind his friendly mask, just grows, threatening to consume him. )

He thinks he`ll stay hidden here for a while...

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"Very we-" he started to say, anyway, before he started to be manhandled. He still didn't look fazed. If Gamzee was looking for someone to beg him for mercy, he was looking at the wrong person. "I don't know why you're asking. I'm human, we only have one color of blood." While he seemed calm, he couldn't help but grab the hands that were holding him. As if he could pull them off.

He keeps on staring, the hands gripping his shirt tightening by reflex as Lelouch grabs them. "And that motherfucking color is?" He gives him a little shake. He's not looking for a reaction; not yet, anyways. He could play later -- right now he wanted an answer. Wanted to hear what Lelouch's answer would be. He had his own guesses.

"Red, of course," he replied, as if this were completely normal. But he still looked his roommate in the eye.

Gamzee doesn't hesitate a second in throwing Lelouch to the ground, disgust written all over his face. He stands over him, hands twitching. Not yet. Not yet, not yet... "Motherfucking disgusting," He practically spits the words in his venom. "Having a human have control over me. A lowblood, a human -- made a player," He laughs, bitterly. "Motherfucking Dolorosa's too soft on you guys. Letting you run amock and even be players..." He shudders and the crazed smile he'd had vanishes. "Why don't you show me?"

Okay he was officially in over his head. He was really powerless to do anything other than land in a heap on the floor. While Gamzee continued to rant, he slipped his hand into his Player's glove. Would a Weapon's weapon be viable against them? He may be about to find out.

He was going to have a talk with Dolorosa about what sort of people trolls were. Assuming he survived. "Show you?"

"Your blood, motherfucker." That wicked grin is back, impossibly wide, flashing his razor sharp teeth. "No harm in getting help from others, right? Do I have to help you, or are you going to do it yourself?" He catches sight of that glove, and chuckles, slamming his foot down on Lelouch's hand at an awkward angle. If something breaks, or just hurts, he doesn't care.

He flinched at the stomp on his hand. He's pretty sure some damage was done, but he's got other things on his mind. "Gamzee, I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding here. Let's go speak to Headmistress Dolorosa. I'm sure we can clear something up."

"What?" His grin flickers, full of glee. "MISUNDERSTANDING? There ain't no kind of misunderstanding going on here, bro. The Dolorosa wouldn't have nothing to say. You just need help, don't you? That's alright," He breathes out a fluttering sigh, and leans down, putting pressure on Lelouch's hand. "We're partners, aren't we? I'll help you out." He takes one clawed finger, and places it against Lelouch's forehead. Tap. Tap. "You sure you can't do it yourself?" He laughs.

Okay that snap definitely means something's broken. "I'm telling you to stop!" He had to try it, at least. It would probably have the side effect of making him never able to move again. But he didn't particularly care right now.

Gamzee's eyes narrow but his grin stays, looking eerily out of place. "You're what?" He murmurs, pressing closer, putting more pressure on that hand. "Are you trying to order me around? The peasantblood's got guts." He declares to the room, chuckling. Tap, tap, and he digs his claw in for a moment before taking his hand away.

Only to brush Lelouch's bangs to the side, coming back and digging his nail in and dragging it down. Unless Lelouch's got skin of steel, he'll be drawing blood. He doesn't dig so hard that it comes up fast, but rather slow, and he stares eagerly.

With only one arm and his legs to use, he really can't do much to stop him. But then, even as Gamzee's claw cut a new scar into his face, and he was trying to figure out why his Geass hadn't worked, he collected himself enough for one big act of resistance. He used his free hand to jab his thumb into Gamzee's eye.

Gamzee lashes out immediately; the finger he'd let linger on his forehead leaves a moment before he slams his open hand onto Lelouch's head, pushing him onto his back. He stands up, relieving the pressure on Lelouch's now presumably broken wrist, smile turned into a snarl. Putting a hand up to cover his eye, he vaguely notes he's lucky it isn't all that bad. It stings, fuck does it sting, it throbs, and the memory of his awful headache returns. "You little bitch," he's spitting and snarling, and taking good aim and kicking Lelouch's stomach. He does it with surprising strength, too, for all his lanky figure could say. "Guess you really don't motherfucking wanna do it yourself. I gave you a chance, too. More than you could ever MOTHERFUCKING HOPE FOR." The last few words come out a shout.

Yeah it was broken. But the glove was still useful. For now, though, he collected himself and got back up to his feet. There was an involuntary shake in the hand attached to the broken wrist, and he didn't really do anything about the trickle of blood running from his forehead. "You're insane. Whatever status you may have had is meaningless. Whatever power you may have used is gone. So be it. If this is any clue, you only used your power against others. People like you don't deserve it."

"Meaningless? Gone? Nah, brother, it ain't meaningless, and it ain't gone. I'm the motherfucking messiahs. They're me. They've always been, and now I think it's time to school you. Don't matter where I am or who I'm with, I'm always the MOTHERFUCKING HIGHEST, and my power can be and will be USED AGAINST WHOEVER THE FUCK I WANT IT TO BE." The grin is back, and he lowers his hand. His guard is up, and he's vaguely expecting Lelouch to attack him. But he won't let that happen.

His eyes are drawn to the blood trickling down Lelouch's face, and his razor smile gleams, bright orange eyes burning. "Motherfucking red," He laughs, a cold sound. "I think that'll be a fine color on the wall, don't you?"

He glanced toward the door. He didn't think he could make it. But it would draw Gamzee in enough to get his hand up to pull out one of his clubs. "Gamzee, this isn't what you want to do. If you just let me leave, this will be the end of this..." He started toward the door.

"End? I'll tell you when it's the MOTHERFUCKING END, bro." He steps closer, blocking Lelouch's way. He's not too close yet, but if Lelouch reached out, maybe...

Gamzee's smiling. It's an open taunt. Try it, his look urges. "Can you move that motherfucking hand? It looks PRETTY USELESS to me, even more so than the rest of you."

Dammit. He knew. He somehow knew. Or was he just blocking his exit? His mind was somewhat clouded by the pain, but he had to get out of here. Once he was out of this room, he had more options. Like finding help.

So he went for it. He thrust his shoulder into Gamzee, and lifted his hands to Gamzee's chest. He was only able to move his fingers the slightest bit. But he grabbed hold of the club with his good hand once the gloved one got it started. Now, if only he could get this all the way out before he put those claws to work.

Gamzee's grin widens as Lelouch bangs against him, and he doesn't move to resist for a moment, letting Lelouch get a good hold on the club. His hands come to rest on his shoulders, claws pricking the faintest of warnings. It's almost like he's embracing Lelouch, but as soon as the club is out, those claws just aren't warnings. He's digging his fingers through the fabric, twisting and tearing before shoving Lelouch away.

"You're gonna try fighting? Heh. Motherfucking heh. Statement says peasantblood's got guts stands true. Wouldn't it be easier to just LAY DOWN and DIE since you're going to anyways?"

The pain was obvious in his face, but he made a point of not making a sound as the claws tore into his skin. "I will always fight," he groaned.

It was probably going to be fruitless. But he swung the club at Gamzee's head.

Gamzee's face stays frozen to a smile as a hand snaps up and stops the blow from connecting. It was ridiculously easy to predict he'd do that. "Come on, bro, you even MOTHERFUCKING TRYING HERE?" His hand twists and he turns the club, bending Lelouch's wrist awkwardly -- that is, if he hasn't let go yet. He steps closer until he's got a hand pressed against Lelouch's chest -- and his claws dig in -- and he grips and turns and tears the fabric. He pauses a moment, maybe in surprise, then laughs, stepping forwards and shoving Lelouch along with him, aiming to get him pinned against a wall. If he stumbles and falls he'll let go of his shirt and stand over him.

"I think we've played enough, don't you? It's time to make some MOTHERFUCKING MIRACLES happen."

There's something demented about miracles being tossed back in his face like this. He somehow kept his feet, but that may not necessarily be a good thing.

He was going to leave Nunnally all alone. So soon after they had found each other again. Suzaku would blame himself, he was sure. How could he have done anything?

He wasn't going to go down without a fight. He reached up and grabbed hold of one of Gamzee's horns and tugged it down to one side to throw off his balance.

Gamzee's world spins a moment, and his grip loosens significantly. Fuck horns and fuck all their sensitivity. He's got himself righted soon enough, though, and with a low growl of warning he slams Lelouch against the nearest wall, hopefully hard enough to knock his breath out for at least a moment. "Motherfucker. Seems you've still got fight in you, huh?" He gives a dry, forced laugh, before pulling Lelouch forwards and then slamming him back against the wall. If his head takes the brunt of the damage, Gamzee would be pleased.

The world spun after his head cracked on the wall a couple times. But he'd found some valuable information. He flailed his arm out to try to grab the horn again. This time it was harder, with the room spinning like this, to actually achieve his target.

He sees what Lelouch is trying to do and snarls, holding him at arm's length. "What the FUCK do you think you're doing?!" He releases his grip on Lelouch's shirt and grabs him this time by his neck, putting pressure on his windpipe. Anger was pounding through him, anger and disgust; it's so strong he's almost seeing red as he presses, presses and digs his nails into Lelouch's neck. His grip loosens a second after, however, something sneaking in and stopping him. His nails aren't pressing hard enough to draw blood now, but hard enough to cause pain.

Cutting some major artery or the other might be more merciful than what he was doing now. He couldn't breathe. He tugged at the hand that held his windpipe closed. He was no longer able to maintain any kind of poker face. He was obviously panicked. He knew he was going to die.

001 ♑ open log

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