vatheon | [ ♑ ] This is not a bath house

Entry tags:

[ ♑ ] This is not a bath house

who: grand highblood + you

when: afternoon almost evening

where: the lake inside the forest [south-east quadrant]

style: any is fine

status: open

The highblood had spent a good chunk of his time after various events such as Summoner's death, Summoner's return, that scuffle with Darkleer, his own death by Darkleer's hands, just wandering off on his own. He didn't let anyone see him come or leave, and if they did, they obviously didn't bother him enough for him to care. As neglectful as he is of himself on a regular basis, he became even more so during this time and it led up to a point that even the highblood himself couldn't keep letting it go on as such.

It's one thing to look intimidatingly furious and unkept, but it's a whole 'nother thing looking like some kind of homeless feral creature. So to remedy this problem, he saunters on over to the nearest body of water and just slowly submerges himself underwater wearing only the minimal amount of clothing (meaning just his underwear -- yes, the one with his symbol on it). Not that he ever really wore that much to begin with these days, usually forgoing shirts regardless of the time and place. He remains under for a couple of minutes before the large spiraling dark red-to-orange-and-yellow horns slowly rise up through the clear surface, his massive amount of hair floating around him like kelp as it stuck to his hulking body while more of it emerges. It's quite a sight, really.

Talk to him? Try and wash his hair properly instead of how he's just making it worse by not properly shampooing and conditioning? Join him? >;o)

> What will you do?

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Also, must you wear your sign right there on your crotch. It is revolting. You are revolting. He is considering killing you again since drowning is so tempting an option.

However, in all honesty, Darkleer hadn't meant to stumble across the Highblood. Ever since their... last face-to-face encounter, he has been doing his best to avoid the other troll. It was truly the safest thing to do and something he had already been doing to begin with. Equius and Gamzee already had dealt enough with this wretched beast. If he continued to interact with him anymore, then he could possibly drag his loved ones into danger. Summoner had already said he had him under control, more or less, and while Darkleer wasn't pleased with that agreement either... Well, he had to simply put some faith and trust in his matesprit.

His matesprit being the reason he is venturing into the forest, as a matter of fact.

With the passing weeks of personal stress, the loss of Mindfang and Psiioniic, dealing with Disciple, everything, Darkleer often finds himself tired when he does not do his best to keep busy. Gamzee and Equius make him smile, of course, but there is only so much the two boys can do. Summoner makes him light up in a way that is different, and they both know they need to make the most of what time they have here. So that is what he is looking forward with a spark of hope in his chest...

Which is promptly extinguished as he comes across this wet disaster.

Immediately, Darkleer wrinkles his nose in distaste and gives a slight sneer. "What are you doing?"

Why you starin' at his crotch, Darkleer, hm? Answer me that.

The highblood hardly reacts to his uninvited guest's appearance, merely turning his head slightly in his direction as he stands there dripping wet, water up to the middle of his thighs. He pushes back a heavy chunk of his hair over his shoulder, peeling away the strands from his face just enough to be comfortable and he grins devilishly at him, every single tooth bared.

"Sure are a motherfucking unperceptive shitblood if I ever all did see one," he replies in that low and grating voice that he always starts off with. "What's it all motherfucking LOOK like?" Then he gives the water a violent slap with his huge hand, snickering at him.

He did not expect visitors to drop in unannounced, and most certainly not during his baths, but it's not as if he had anything to hide or was ashamed of being look upon while he was in nothing but his underwear. But the fact that it was Darkleer of all people annoys him greatly, easily noted by the sneer on his fact that keeps changing between that and a grin.

It is kind of hard to miss being the only spot of color amongst all that gray and black. Also you need to do your laundry, you bum, those are hideous.

Old habit has him bristling and swallowing back a lump in his throat at the reference to his blood. That has always been a constant, even if his recent rebellion against the highblood is a new development. All those sweeps of reinforcement that his blood was worth so much, such a valuable commodity... And this beast, this wretched thing which laid amongst rotting corpses and blood, he called him as if he were so much lower.

It almost seems petty and pathetic, really, when he thinks about it. Summoner has no doubt had to deal with so much worse. All lowbloods did. Still, still, hearing this say it grates at him like nothing else.

"It appears," he says stiffly, "that you are wading about in filthy water in a sad pantomime of a bath. However, in order for it to be a bath, you would actually have to take steps to clean yourself."

Laundry? What is this...laundry you speak of? No, I kid, of course he knows how to do his own motherfucking laundry. Mind your own business you piece of shit, why do you even care?

It's horrible because the highblood knows how it effects the blueblood so, to bring him down to the level of the usually despised lowbloods even if Darkleer obviously didn't seem have to have a problem with lowbloods at all. All that conditioning for sweeps and sweeps can really fuck up a guy. Though for GHB, it's hardly being fucked up at all, so he can't really understand that.

"Well, seems like your motherfucking ocular nubs are functional and in-motherfucking-sync with your sponge! Makes a brother so motherfucking glad to know his favorite little lowlife can make some sharp motherfucking observations!" He snorts, now full-on frowning and baring his teeth at him threateningly. "I'm sitting in a motherfucking lake and getting some of the wicked rinsing on, not some motherfucking formal bath, motherfucker!"

Again with the insults, and those bared teeth. It's really rather instinctual for most trolls to bare their teeth back when threatened or angry, but it is only this troll that gets Darkleer to do it right back. His teeth aren't as impressively sharp as the Highblood's thanks to a lifetime of a mostly vegan diet, but it's still a feral and rare expression on his face as his ears flicker back as well.

"Goodness knows you need one! A rinse is not going to accomplish anything at all." In fact, there is a strange and secret part of him that just wants to stuff that head full of stupid curly hair hell down beneath the water and scrub him dry... God he's had to deal with this filthy monster for ages. Dogs have better hygiene.

...He is possibly a bit different kind of fucked up then most bluebloods.

The highblood just scoffs, lowering himself once more so that the water sits right at his chest. He's lounging around in a shallow end, just sitting, not even bothering to splash water up onto his body or rinse or rub. Nothing.

"Sure ain't all none of your motherfucking concern, but you are getting all kinds of worked the motherfuck up here," he says. "Why so intent on seeing a brother get his motherfucking sparkle on, eh?" Then he lets out a sharp laugh, turning into a low, mischievous chuckle.

Ugh. He should just walk away with a scoff and a sneer. This wretched thing is not worth his time. Summoner wouldn't want him to get into a ridiculous bickering match.

But...

"I have had to deal with your stench for sweeps" he sniffs, turning almost partway as if he really is considering leaving. "Pardon me for being concerned with your lack of of hygeine habits. You obviously need someone to hold your hand through the entire thing."

He just pauses for a moment, eyes narrowing for a good long moment. As much as Darkleer's presence and conversations annoyed the hell out of him, he can't help himself.

"You motherfucking offering?" A wide grin.

Rather promptly, he stiffens up and flares his nostrils out slightly in aggravation. In honesty, he should deny anything and offer a good boot to the highblood's head just for good measure. Yet for some reason- possibly still the tentative grasps of old hemospectrum programming inside of him- keeps him back.

"I highly doubt you would be capable of keeping that heinous excuse for an air-intake hole closed and those ill-cleaned teeth inside," he sniffs.

Seeing that Darkleer still hadn't just stormed off or completely ignored him (which would've been for his own good, really), he decides to keep up this stupid banter they're having. It's still pretty satisfying to see him so aggravated though. Anger is always a lovely emotion that he enjoys watching, whether it's directed towards him or someone else, it matters very little.

"Motherfucker sounds like you're all up and trying to pick a nasty little fight," he says with a bit of a warning growl. "Sure you all wanna lose a few motherfucking teeth or fingers or a motherfucking horn from all up and criticizing a brother's MOTHERFUCKING HYGIENE?"

Just like before, he finds himself growling back, lip twitching upwards to reveal his own set of teeth. They aren't nearly as impressive as the rows and rows in the Highblood's gaping maw, thanks to centuries of a herbivorous diet, but it's the act that counts and not the trivial details.

"Touch me, and I will guarantee that the offensive hand in question will find itself removed," he warns, voice low and his fists starting to clench with a creak. "Besides, with all due respect, your hygiene needs criticizing."

"Don't mean I all up and have to listen to your motherfucking hoofbeastshit," He retorts back, still baring his teeth at him. "Maybe I'll just forget the motherfucking rinse and just get the fuck all up and out of here--"

Then he stands up, water rushing down off his body as he suddenly moves, and then just faces Darkleer with a scowl.

"Just get myself all up in your motherfucking delicate little bubble that's so all up and easy to fucking pop. Maybe this so-called motherfucking STINK of my own will rub off on your precious motherfucking clean shitty self, and force you to carry that scent with you always. MAYBE YOU'D LIKE THAT, MOTHERFUCKER."

Pre-emptively, adrenaline pumps through his system and every muscle in his body tenses in preparation for some sort of battle, some sort of chase. There's something else in the back of his mind, however, whispering that he still carries something from the Highblood with him, something from all those sweeps of bowing to him, of carrying out his will no matter what it was, from being irreversibly his somehow. Darkleer swallows hard and does his best to smother it all.

"Do stop projecting your desires onto me, please," he hisses, shivering from far too many emotions than he needs right now. "Also, please get into the water before I am prompted to show you how it is done properly."

The highblood knows that Darkleer is going through some kind of turmoil and just grins uncomfortably at him, glaring at darkly as he just steps closer to him. His footsteps squish loudly as they slowly start to circle around the blueblood, obviously not listening to his request to get back in the water.

"Oh yeah, motherfucker? What you all gonna motherfucking do, then? Pick a brother up by the seat of his motherfucking skivvies and push him underwater?" Yeahhh, don't tempt the only troll who is strong enough to actually pull that off. Might not be a good idea, highblood!

No, see, that is the best idea. Or, at least, it caters to two of Darkleer's secret deepest needs, the first which is to toss the highblood about like a ragdoll. The other? Goodness, how long he's wanted to see him just CLEAN for once. As if he didn't carry all of the known Alternian diseases in his hair alone.

Still trembling slightly as he's circled like some sort of helpless prey, Darkleer takes in a deep breath to calm himself. Taking a hair tie from his belt, he gets to pulling his long hair back into bun, a process that doesn't take long with how experienced he is in the simple task. Then his glasses begin to pull away from around his horns and skull until he can simple remove them. With a snap, they're closed and he dismisses them to his sylladex. Another deep calming breath...

And then he's twisting around, going right up against the highblood. And yes, he is grabbing those goshdarned underpants- he needs the leverage as he keeps low and tries to use the highblood's weight against him to help toss him over into the lake again. If he's successful, guess who will be storming into the water as well?

The highblood can see that Darkleer is preparing himself for something, but for what he's unsure. He just keeps a watchful eye as he does a great impression of a vulture, occasionally shaking water from out of his hair.

Then he's... well, he's not exactly sure what just happened. He saw it coming, as in, he saw Darkleer's form twist and press right up against him for a brief moment. But just because he can see what's happening doesn't mean his body can react as quickly as he'd wish, and finds his body suddenly being flung backwards by an impossibly strong force. Sure, he tenses for a moment and tries to hold his ground, but he finds that his strength against Darkleer's is pretty evenly matched a good deal of the time, and he managed to get the upperhand this time. Time after time, he's always surprised by the freakish strength of the blueblood and it pisses him off each time.

There's a huge splash, hitting the water back first, and feels himself sinking a little but not far enough into the lake to go under. He pulls himself up with a snarl, just in time to see Darkleer marching towards him with a clear purpose.

Edited 2012-08-28 07:08 (UTC)

Maybe one day it will piss him off so much, he might have a heart attack from it, and Darkleer would just sob tears of misery. Oh, except he wouldn't, and he would probably just celebrate with Gamzee by making pies all day.

If he could dream, that is probably the sort of thing he would dream of.

"Kindly sit still, thank you very much," he snaps, pulling a washcloth from his sylladex and not caring if his armor and clothes get wet. Darkleer wades right in. "I am going to show you how to do this properly and goodness gracious help me if you do not comply!"

The highblood wastes no time in sitting up and getting to his feet, eyes wild and letting out a scoffing laugh. Yeah, no, not sitting down. He ain't taking none of this cleaning bullshit from Darkleer. He'll fight him, yeah, fight him real good and maybe kill him again just for good measure. But this? No way.

"Better get your motherfucking CALL ON for your Goodness Gracious, motherfucker, because I ain't complying to none of your fetishistic desires to all up and rid me of my motherfucking smell!"

A rough snort and Darkleer stands his ground. "You wouldn't be getting rid of your smell, you would be getting rid of the smell of a walking waste disposal container!"

So this is how it is going to be, then. He should have figured as much. Growling deep in his throat, he gauges the highblood briefly. Finally, he darts forward again, trying to get a hold of him while his leg attempts to hook behind the highblood's so he can get him back down again.

Although naked, wet, and quite vulnerable to a hard fall into the lake, the huge troll puts up a solid fight against Darkleer's attempt to bring him down. His hands are up, claws ready to sink into whatever part of the other troll's body he can get them into. Legs locked even with a leg hooked around the back, he lets out a growling yell, teeth bared as he tries to throw him off.

Being in water makes things difficult, however. The slippery dirt and rocks beneath his feet give away, which causes him to lose his balance thus the leg hooked around his knees finally buckle them in.

Down, down he goes, but he takes Darkleer with him, still latching tightly onto him.

So this is yet another set of armor ruined. Really, the highblood is bad for them all. That, if nothing else, should be some sort of reason to stop dealing with him... but that's apparently undoable.

A brief thrill of victory goes through him when he feels the highblood starts to fall, but it's quickly gone when he feels his own center of balance torn from him. Darkleer only barely is able to take in a sharp gasp of air before he's underwater. His hands scramble before he shifts against him and reaches for his throat, his face, unsure if he wants to choke the other or just push him away by the face.

The highblood clenches his teeth, trying to hold his breath properly even with those persistent hands reaching for his throat. His eyes snap open in a mixture of fear and anger, the suffocating pressure of water closing around him in that familiar terrifying way that he could remember from sweeps and sweeps and sweeps ago. It's the only clear memory he has, being underwater, unable to breathe and no one around to even help.

His body suddenly thrashes, reaching out for Darkleer's arm and full intending on breaking it if he even so much dared to keep him under.

He sees that massive claw surging towards him, and there's only a split second for Darkleer to react to it. Everything feels to slow as he twists his body to try and defend himself against the attack. The impact alone makes his arm ache, and he tries to follow the twisting so his limb doesn't suffer more. In the meantime, his other hand tries to tear and loosen that grip.

His feet? He's trying to kick at the highblood's face. Goodness, but he hopes he makes the other lose a few of those ghastly things!

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[ ♑ ] This is not a bath house

> Darkleer: Be disgusted

>:o)

BC

>Bo)

Don't you clown smile at him

Can't tell him what to do jackass!!!

Then that better work vice versa!

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