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♑ ♦ ♋ | It helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky
Who: Gamzee Makara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
420) & Karkat Vantas (bethehugejerk)
When: After Gamzee figures out Mrs Brisby is gone.
Where: Some frosty ass beach.
Style: This one?
Status: Closed.
It had been reflex, really. He had read the letter because... well, that was what you did with letter with your motherfuckin' namewords on them, right? He had read it and then... just reflex. He had shrugged on his coat, pulled on his sneakers and set out. No thinking, just moving. The fact that his SFC was still on the table was just pure accident. It hadn't been done with no sort of firm intention. While he normally was at least half decent about lugging it along, it was real sorts of hard thinking about the little shit like that with your pan threatening to get its numb on.
The winter wind was cold and prickled on his tongue like salt. It pulled through his loose curls at random --hats, like communicators, were easily forgot-- nipping at the long line of his ears with ferocity. Gamzee had no idea how long he had been standing there just like that. He didn't hold with wearing watches, didn't seem any sort of fair to be locking down time in some little wrist box, but the way his fingers twitched faintly probably did all get its meaning on like it was time to get him to a new dose of slime.
Still, he didn't move, instead just staring out over the ocean.
420) & Karkat Vantas (bethehugejerk)When: After Gamzee figures out Mrs Brisby is gone.
Where: Some frosty ass beach.
Style: This one?
Status: Closed.
It had been reflex, really. He had read the letter because... well, that was what you did with letter with your motherfuckin' namewords on them, right? He had read it and then... just reflex. He had shrugged on his coat, pulled on his sneakers and set out. No thinking, just moving. The fact that his SFC was still on the table was just pure accident. It hadn't been done with no sort of firm intention. While he normally was at least half decent about lugging it along, it was real sorts of hard thinking about the little shit like that with your pan threatening to get its numb on.
The winter wind was cold and prickled on his tongue like salt. It pulled through his loose curls at random --hats, like communicators, were easily forgot-- nipping at the long line of his ears with ferocity. Gamzee had no idea how long he had been standing there just like that. He didn't hold with wearing watches, didn't seem any sort of fair to be locking down time in some little wrist box, but the way his fingers twitched faintly probably did all get its meaning on like it was time to get him to a new dose of slime.
Still, he didn't move, instead just staring out over the ocean.