Spreading a Little Terror | First level, west side or second level

[makaracles]

[Even the most stable of people couldn't be expected to handle what Gamzee's had to deal with for the past few weeks and come out of it calm and sane, and Gamzee has never been really anchored in reality as it is. A few days of being chased by wraiths, finding out he'd attacked his moirail and hurt him badly, and then a week of being terrorized by

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First level because Asato still doesn't get the second level at allll

[walksonrooftops]

[The ribika is just trotting down the street as night falls, equally comfortable in the dark as he is in the light of daytime. Out of instinct and respect for the strict rules of his village still engraved in his brain, he hides his presence, stifling his energy, calming his thoughts, silencing and softening his footsteps. He moves through the streets like a ghost now, though he doesn't even realize he's doing it

[walksonrooftops]

[He hisses loudly when his wrist is grabbed, trying to twist it away. His behavior becomes more and more animalistic as he slips away, the naive, simple-minded Asato being replaced by the raw, violent instinct of what, on his world, is an alpha predator.]

I'll kill you. [Oh, he wants to. Badly. Not even for food--just for sport, just because Gamzee is taunting him and it makes him so very angry. He's just lucid enough to actually say it, but even if he were no longer capable of it, the sentiment would still be clear just from the glazed look in his eyes.]

[makaracles]

You gonna motherfuckin' try?

[Gamzee looks delighted by this idea, and he spins one juggling club idly in his hand. Asato may be of a race of top predators, but Gamzee is from a race that has conquered galaxies, laid waste to stars, enslaved thousands of lesser civilizations. And his caste were the ones that enforced the rules of the royals and kept the vast majority of these warlike people under control. He in the sole inheritor of a legacy of fear and violence that goes back countless millenia, and tonight he's taking the first steps towards claiming it.]

[walksonrooftops]

[No articulate answer; only a low growl. From the perspective of the second level, Asato is completely gone. In his place is now a towering creature with a heavy, plated torso and digitigrade legs covered in coarse black fur. Thick drool drips from his fanged maw and a mass of mucus-coated tendrils writhe behind him, originating somewhere from his back. When Asato hisses, the creature in the realm of the mind raises its hackles in time with him.

Unfortunately, in the realm of the body, he is still a ribika and nothing more, but he is strong and hardy and pumped full of aggression, adrenaline surging through his system. His eyes are vacant, glassy, pupils drawn to thin slits. His answer comes in the form of a pounce, hurling his full weight at the troll. He didn't bring his sword--he hadn't anticipated needing it just to forage for food--but he has claws and teeth, not to mention brute force, and he fully intends to use all he has.]

[makaracles]

[Gamzee steps forward to meet the attack, swinging his club in a flat arc intended to connect with the ribika's chin and knock him backward. He shouts out a loud, nasal HONK of amusement as he moves in.]

[walksonrooftops]

[The club connects just as intended, a loud crack sounding as it strikes the cat in the jaw. He stumbles back, dazed, but by the way he's still growling at the troll, teeth clenched, it's clear the hit didn't break the bone. Blood beads at the corner of his mouth now, mingling with saliva, but he doesn't seem to acknowledge the pain at all. To show pain is to admit weakness, and to admit weakness is to invite death.

He sways on his feet for a brief second before steadying himself and just trying the same thing a second time.]

[makaracles]

[If Gamzee were a different kind of troll, there would probably be some lecture or at least thought about doing the same thing again and expecting to get a different result. But he's not, and he's having way too much fun, besides. This time the club swings in from the side as the indigoblood drops lower and aims for the solar plexus.]

[walksonrooftops]

[He manages to evade that one just a little, yowling in pain as the club whacks him in the side. A sharp, stinging pain in his side tells him quite clearly that this time, he did break a bone, most likely a rib. The ribika hits the ground with a thud and extends a hand to Gamzee's leg. If he can reach, he intends to dig his claws deep into the skinny troll's calf. Maybe even tear it open. Just to see blood--he wanted blood, he wanted to maim the troll until not even his moirail would recognize him anymore.]

[makaracles]

[The ribika's claws tear through polka-dotted cloth, and into the gray flesh beneath, drawing blood a deep blue-purple in color, like the sky at sunset. Gamzee takes the clawing with a tight hiss, and pivots on that foot, swinging his other to kick at Asato's chin, aiming to knock him backward so he could pounce.]

[walksonrooftops]

[The foot hits him squarely in the face and he rolls back, a bloodied hand clutched to his face for a moment.. He isnt immune to pain, not by a long shot. Hissing as more blood runs from his split-open lip, he attempts to scramble to his feet.]

[makaracles]

[Gamzee's on him in a heartbeat, shoving him back down, grabbing for his wrists, and lunging forward to headbutt him right in the forehead. He doesn't want to kill the ribika, not really, but he could use a little time to plant a fear deep down in the other male, something that can stick around for a good long while, making him ... vulnerable.]

[walksonrooftops]

[An indignant yowl cuts short as their foreheads collide, making his head spin. For a long moment he can't see or think straight and, like a trapped animal, Asato thrashes and writhes, wanting to break free of the troll's grip. He tries to lunge forward to bite, not able to use his claws with his wrists pinned.]

[makaracles]

[Gamzee yanks his head back to avoid getting bitten, though only to keep his concentration. Laughing (honking) with wild abandon, he stares down at Asato, looking behind his eyes, and shoving something deep into his brain.

You're a monster. You can't deny who and what you are, but you'll destroy everything and everyone you care about, because when it comes down to it, all you are is a monster. The ribika is a fake, a facade, and no matter how you fight it, when things get bad, you'll turn, and you'l maim and kill everything close to you. You know it's true, deep down, even if you don't think about all the time, it's always there, that fear, the fear that you'll turn ... ]

[walksonrooftops]

[Asato hisses and snarls, but cannot break free of the other's grip. It's like something is keeping him there, pinned, transfixed. Gamzee's face floats in and out of focus as his head throbs painfully, and then there's the voice in his head. He wants to resist it. To say no. But the beast is too prominent now and instead, he stares back at him and numbly begins to agree.

Because he is a monster. Nothing more. That's what lurks inside him. It's his fate. One day he'll turn and reveal his true nature forever and there will be no going back. He'll slaughter those he cares about. Yes. It will happen. It already is. It's true. Completely true.

He whimpers for a moment before letting out a scream.]

[makaracles]

[The troll sits on top of Asato, and he drinks up that scream like the finest, sweetest wine, letting it pour into him with an expression of bright ecstasy, his head thrown back. Now. MOTHERFUCKING NOW. He's got the power, NO ONE IS GOING TO FUCK WITH HIM ever again. Clawed hands reach down to cradle the ribika's face, shoving that fear as down deep as he can, making it a part of the other male that he can call on any time he wants, a chucklevoodoo he can set free at a whim.

And it is so good.]

[walksonrooftops]

[Something seems to have snapped inside him, at least for the moment. All he can do is scream, thrashing violently. Scream until his throat goes raw, wanting--needing--to kill, but still so vulnerable and so afraid. Gamzee may as well be driving a knife into his brain. He can't muster up the will to even fight back. All there is now is primordial, soul-crushing fear.]