caughtinanetwork

That's much better, but...

[So says a certain young man dressed in stark monochrome, dark hair interrupted by three parallel lines of white running along only one side of his head, as he regards what appears to be a colorful ball -- the sort of toy meant for felines to caper after, once catnip has been placed inside.

Residents of a certain villa may recognize their foyer.

It's looking significantly tidier, or rather like someone had artfully arranged but one side of it, and proceeded to arrange the other side in a spookily precise mirror image. Even various cat toys found scattered around the premises have been doled out to each corner of the foyer in a bilaterally symmetrical fashion.

Someone even went through the trouble of dusting and sweeping. It veritably sparkles. Death the Kid's hair is a little disheveled, in the way of one who had little choice but to let damp hair dry as it would.

Indeed, the young grim reaper had stood there in the plaza since yesterday afternoon waiting to drip-dry, unable to abide by the thought of moving around while his wet clothes insisted on sticking to him, horrifyingly askew. He has standards.]

What do I do? It's almost perfect, but I can't simply place this in one corner.

[This is sort of stressing him out.]

I'll just have to acquire another that matches this precisely! Residents of this house! Where is the nearest market?

[This, while addressing the starfish communicator held in the other hand, until the reaper's golden eyes dart a brief, distressed glance at his own creased (and still uncomfortably damp) suit.]

...No, I should first change into something suitable. But I can't just leave this unfinished!

[Ahh, he can't decide, what should he do? WHAT SHOULD HE DO??? At last, he decides to stow the catnip ball away, and black, crackling tendrils of skull-capped shadow spirits away the toy out of sight.]

First things first--where can I launder and dry my clothing? Don't delay in supplying in answer, this is essential, I'm filthy.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

What kind of stupid asshole can't figure out that the fucking villa he's standing in might have laundering devices and towels? Are you really that stunted in the pan?

[Hi, Kid. Here's a grey-skinned teenager with horns, and horrendously messy hair.]

Then again, if you've gone to the trouble of fussing over arranging things in some freakish mirror of themselves to the extent you can't just drop the ball where it is, the answer is probably a deafening yes, you are that stunted.

[The kind of privileged richkid who has everything, that kind of stupid asshole.

The kind who, upon beholding another of these strange, gray-skinned 'trolls', endures the sort of internal strife that results in a confusing vacillation between mortally offended bristling and pleased intrigue.

Horns, evenly spaced, of equal size (diminutive). Pleasing.

Oh god, that hair.

Oh god, that attitude.]

That's a fine thing coming from a mannerless dog who can't figure their way around a comb!

Eat a bulge, jackass. Just because my hair sticks up the way its wants doesn't mean I'm ignorant of basic hygiene. It's not tangled; it just grows that way, and I happen to like the style it's in. Besides, don't talk like you have the room for it when you're the style-impaired douchewheel with honest to god stripes in his, and that's coming from a species that thinks fashion is stupid to begin with.

But if you're so concerned on my manners, let me show you what I think of the subject.

[A raised middle finger suddenly jabs into view.]

[Coolly:] Are you perhaps allergic to seeing a barber? Or are your manners so poor no one will care for that untamed thing resting on your skull?

[They are off to the best start--]

[It's not precisely Karkat's language that chafes him.

It's not even the displayed middle finger.

But the way his deadpan expression crumbles into ever-mounting distress at that part about the Sanzu Lines in his hair leaves little guesswork as to the source of his next reaction.]

[He clutches at his hair.]

I know! These damnable lines and their stubborn lack of symmetry! I'm worthless trash, unfit to draw breath! To think that I still can't manage to achieve perfection in such a basic way--disgusting!

The humiliation! I could just die!

[Karkat was going to fire back a retort, but that... That sure is something. What, he's not entirely sure, but he's staring with raised eyebrows now.]

Wow. No kidding you are if you get that torn up over a bit of goddamn hair. You're the one who has it styled that way, weirdo. How did you even get it like that? Is it physically beyond your capacity to dye the ugly ass streaks out?

Karkat, please...he was born that way, he can't help it. It's a trait of death gods in my world, they eventually connect into three complete lines when they reach their full power.

--Ah, and he can't dye them out. His body is physically resistant to outside toxins.

Edited (adverbs get the fuck out) 2012-11-25 00:16 (UTC)

[Wow nope, he's just laughing now. Sorry Maka but this is hilarious to him.]

[Lineface.]

What.

[Honestly.]

I know you think the power mechanics of our world are dumb but that's just how it is.

This douche is that weird, and he's stuck with his ugly hair to make it worse? You can't tell me that's not funny when he's the one who was bitching about my hair.

He's having a bad day, he's not usually this bad. Once I get him away from the cat's toys and up in the shower, he'll calm down a bit.

[Maybe.]

Failing that, I still have a few books of palindromes in the library.

He really is neurotic, isn't he. Palindromes? Seriously?

Yes. Yes, he is. Unfortunately for everyone involved, even him, that's also ingrained in his DNA.

Talking about me like I'm not even here, I really am despicable!

[Kid, for fuck's sake.]

Please, just leave me on the curb for the trash collector!

...Kid, this is Karkat. He's my friend, you can get to know him better later. For now let's get you up to the shower, okaaaay?

Who said I want to get to know him better?

[Maka. Maka really. Do you want that to happen. Do you want Karkat to troll him more.]

I didn't say you'll be best friends, I just said "get to know better."

Now if you'll excuse me--[CLICK! She's off to find a pathetic shinigami.]

[Your friend, Maka? Seriously?]

Then surely he has some redeeming qualities-- aside from the horns, I mean, although they're quite beautiful, really.

[Okay, okay, he'll stop.]

You're right, I suppose. This is hardly helping matters.

[Excuse him while he stares.]

... Are you mocking me?

[He's too used to insults to his horns.]

Don't insult me, my taste is impeccable!

[STOP HIM PLEASE...]

The way the one on the right is not even a centimeter taller than the one on the left, even the blunted tips are an exact match! That is no mere freak accident of nature, that is sublime perfection!

Do you have any idea just how slim the chances are that such exacting symmetry could exist in nature? Do you?!

[Deep breath, Kid.]

I think I'll have that shower now.

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