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CARNIVAL MEME
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welcome to the carnival
[Want your fortune told? She's pretty good at it.
Okay. I swear I'm done spamming the meme with OCs, 'm sorry Snow!]
[wow it's like i only have one character or something
available in psychic flavor as well!]
available in psychic flavor as well!]
Re: Justine Pyrope [Neophyte Redglare] | Homestuck [Humanstuck AU]
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thirdshoreofcapricorn
2013-07-19 07:45 pm (UTC)(link)
It's truly amazing, he's finding, how a person can feel both perfectly, inexplicably at home, and so utterly out of fucking place so as to want to walk off the pier and drift away. The lights and sound and shrieks and cackles, the occasional passing of a child in facepaint, both set his teeth on edge and make him want to run wild among it all with delight. He wonders if this is how Captor feels.
The sibs are already run off with their tickets to get into some manner of trouble or other, which he's firmly decided to regret later. Right now, he wants to enjoy a date. And in order to do that, he's going to have to figure how to relax, himself. He spots the perfect thing. With a grin and a squeeze of her hand, he gives a nod toward the House of Mirrors.
"I hope you didn't expect anything else," he laughs. He gives a wave of his hand and a wide leading gesture toward the lit-up building. "Shall we?"
The sibs are already run off with their tickets to get into some manner of trouble or other, which he's firmly decided to regret later. Right now, he wants to enjoy a date. And in order to do that, he's going to have to figure how to relax, himself. He spots the perfect thing. With a grin and a squeeze of her hand, he gives a nod toward the House of Mirrors.
"I hope you didn't expect anything else," he laughs. He gives a wave of his hand and a wide leading gesture toward the lit-up building. "Shall we?"
Their date has gone well so far, in her opinion. They'd paid Terezi and Gamzee off with tickets and enough cash to gorge themselves on cotton candy and deep-fried candy bars and play some games. She's absolutely positive when the night is over the two of them are going to either be unholy terrors at home or go into sugar comas in the car, Terezi surrounded by stuffed animals she'd inexplicably won despite her sight issues and Gamzee getting greasy face paint all over the seats.
Either way she'll deal with it when it happens. Right now she's on a date that she fully intends to enjoy without worry. Besides, she personally knows every security guard on duty and Peter is running around with his brothers. They all know there will be hell to pay from her if something happens to either one of the kids.
Behind red-framed glasses (she hadn't felt like bothering with her contacts tonight), Justine's eyes light up. She returns Grant's grin.
"I was expecting a quick trip through the freak show first but I think I can live with this." She gives his arm a light, affectionate tug and half drags him toward the House of Mirrors.
Either way she'll deal with it when it happens. Right now she's on a date that she fully intends to enjoy without worry. Besides, she personally knows every security guard on duty and Peter is running around with his brothers. They all know there will be hell to pay from her if something happens to either one of the kids.
Behind red-framed glasses (she hadn't felt like bothering with her contacts tonight), Justine's eyes light up. She returns Grant's grin.
"I was expecting a quick trip through the freak show first but I think I can live with this." She gives his arm a light, affectionate tug and half drags him toward the House of Mirrors.
"With those chucklefucks? Freakshow is everyday," He teases. He follows after her, passing the ticket man the required amount to let them by, as they walk into the great room of glass and mirrors. It's certainly no mediocre house of mirrors, no easy way out of this one. They'll be forced to take their time, and with that time gather his wits about him.
"I motherfucking knew I looked fat in this, you lied to me," he jokes, pausing for a short second before a mirror and then moving on again. He runs through the maze, laughing and looking for places to jump out from and spook her. It isn't long before he's feeling lost.
"I motherfucking knew I looked fat in this, you lied to me," he jokes, pausing for a short second before a mirror and then moving on again. He runs through the maze, laughing and looking for places to jump out from and spook her. It isn't long before he's feeling lost.
"I was trying to protect your delicate self-image." She laughs and darts after him. She does well for the first few minutes, managing to catch sight of his wild dark hair as he turns a corner but soon she's bumping into her own reflection.
Dammit. Ah well, if she can't find him again inside the maze she'll just have to meet him outside. If she gets there first she'll make him buy the fried dough. She slows her pace to something more leisurely, taking the time to actually study her distorted reflections. She laughs at a few of them, loud enough to ring through the maze.
"God, this one makes me look shorter than Sal. Find any good ones yet, Grant?"
Dammit. Ah well, if she can't find him again inside the maze she'll just have to meet him outside. If she gets there first she'll make him buy the fried dough. She slows her pace to something more leisurely, taking the time to actually study her distorted reflections. She laughs at a few of them, loud enough to ring through the maze.
"God, this one makes me look shorter than Sal. Find any good ones yet, Grant?"
"Well you did a terrible job!" He calls back as he disappears.
Conversely, he fully intended to hold her to buying him the redpop soda-float-sundae he saw. When it seems like he's lost her though, he slows as well, looking the images over as they squash and shrink and stretch him. He stops and lingers particularly long at one that extends high and makes his form near three times what it is. The carnival cloths and colors reflect in the mirrors and darken the ceilings. The lights give a flicker and he frowns, as distant sound of thunder goes off overhead.
"There's one over here..." He says, before a second later, the lights go out.
Conversely, he fully intended to hold her to buying him the redpop soda-float-sundae he saw. When it seems like he's lost her though, he slows as well, looking the images over as they squash and shrink and stretch him. He stops and lingers particularly long at one that extends high and makes his form near three times what it is. The carnival cloths and colors reflect in the mirrors and darken the ceilings. The lights give a flicker and he frowns, as distant sound of thunder goes off overhead.
"There's one over here..." He says, before a second later, the lights go out.
"I'm your girlfriend, asshole, not your life coach!"
She roams the mirrors, snorting as her reflection stretches and shrinks, twists and distorts. This is more fun than she expected. Neon lights flicker above her, bathing her in harsh blue-green light. She pauses when the thunder rumbles, glancing in the mirror to her right. The light isn't at all flattering against her pale skin. She looks practically grey-
Suddenly darkness. She curses under her breath.
"I'm pretty sure that's not supposed to happen."
She roams the mirrors, snorting as her reflection stretches and shrinks, twists and distorts. This is more fun than she expected. Neon lights flicker above her, bathing her in harsh blue-green light. She pauses when the thunder rumbles, glancing in the mirror to her right. The light isn't at all flattering against her pale skin. She looks practically grey-
Suddenly darkness. She curses under her breath.
"I'm pretty sure that's not supposed to happen."
"Justine!" He calls out, spinning. He sees something out of the corner of his eye and turns again to try and catch it, but it's gone. He can hardly see a thing at first, moving along the walls with just his hands. He feels the cool of the mirror and is relieved to find his vision adjusting-- for a moment. His heart stops as he looks upon his hand, and more importantly, what it reflects. He sees claws. Grey skin. A band of black and purple.
He jerks back.
"Motherfucker..."
He jerks back.
"Motherfucker..."
Edited 2013-07-20 00:07 (UTC)
"Grant?" Thunder rumbles outside, closer than before. Shit. She and Grant are stuck in a blacked out mirror maze, there's a storm coming and Terezi and Gamzee are still running around on their own. So much for an enjoyable date night.
"Stay where you are, I'll find you." Justine draws in a slow breath and closes her eyes. When they were younger and had learned Terezi would eventually lose most of her sight, Justine had taken it upon herself to help teach her younger sister how to get around when it eventually did happen. She'd spend hours after school and on weekends walking with her, both of them with their eyes closed. They focused on their other senses to get them around and nowadays Justine could "see" nearly as well with her eyes closed as she could with them open.
She stretches her arm out, fingertips touching the cool mirror glass. She can do this, no big deal. Slow, careful steps, open ears. Within three steps her face mashed against a mirror.
"Goddammit!" She opens her eyes on instinct, squinting at her reflection in the dark. Fucking blackout. Her eyes gradually adjust and when she sees her reflection she can't help but let out a short sound of panic.
Her sclera are yellow. Not the sickly jaundice yellow but an unnatural shade orange-yellow. And it wasn't just that. Her irises looked different too. More teal than regular blue-green.
What is happening?
"Stay where you are, I'll find you." Justine draws in a slow breath and closes her eyes. When they were younger and had learned Terezi would eventually lose most of her sight, Justine had taken it upon herself to help teach her younger sister how to get around when it eventually did happen. She'd spend hours after school and on weekends walking with her, both of them with their eyes closed. They focused on their other senses to get them around and nowadays Justine could "see" nearly as well with her eyes closed as she could with them open.
She stretches her arm out, fingertips touching the cool mirror glass. She can do this, no big deal. Slow, careful steps, open ears. Within three steps her face mashed against a mirror.
"Goddammit!" She opens her eyes on instinct, squinting at her reflection in the dark. Fucking blackout. Her eyes gradually adjust and when she sees her reflection she can't help but let out a short sound of panic.
Her sclera are yellow. Not the sickly jaundice yellow but an unnatural shade orange-yellow. And it wasn't just that. Her irises looked different too. More teal than regular blue-green.
What is happening?
He doesn't respond to her. He stares wide-eyed at the mirror. The reflection moves where he moves, echoes what he does. But it's not him. A great looming creature peers down, face shrouded in it's own shadow, but for what seems to be a skull, reflecting. He takes half a step-toward the beast.
Then he hears her curse and cry out. He looks away for just a moment, but when he does, his reflection is human again. He starts in a run, occasionally hitting a wall and seeing the creature appear again in mirrors he passes before it vanishes again, over and over.
"Justine! JUSTINE!"
And then he sees her shape in the dark. Or something like it.
Then he hears her curse and cry out. He looks away for just a moment, but when he does, his reflection is human again. He starts in a run, occasionally hitting a wall and seeing the creature appear again in mirrors he passes before it vanishes again, over and over.
"Justine! JUSTINE!"
And then he sees her shape in the dark. Or something like it.
Her heart is hammering in her chest. She has to be seeing things. That or it's a trick of the light. Dark. Whatever.
She stares at her reflection for a few seconds, hesitantly reaching out to touch her face in the mirror. She's so transfixed on her eyes it takes her a second to realize her reflection is wearing gloves. Not the sleeves of her red hoodie covering her fingers, but actual elbow-length, bright red gloves. She looks at her face again. The face looking back isn't hers. Grey skin, some kind of high collar- are those horns?
She opens her mouth to shout again. Then she sees her reflection's teeth.
"Grant!"
She can't look anymore. She bolts away from the mirror. She hears him calling her name from the opposite direction but all she can think about right now is getting out.
She stares at her reflection for a few seconds, hesitantly reaching out to touch her face in the mirror. She's so transfixed on her eyes it takes her a second to realize her reflection is wearing gloves. Not the sleeves of her red hoodie covering her fingers, but actual elbow-length, bright red gloves. She looks at her face again. The face looking back isn't hers. Grey skin, some kind of high collar- are those horns?
She opens her mouth to shout again. Then she sees her reflection's teeth.
"Grant!"
She can't look anymore. She bolts away from the mirror. She hears him calling her name from the opposite direction but all she can think about right now is getting out.
He bolts after her. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the dark reflection of hers linger just a second longer. Not long enough to make it out. His heart pounds.
Thunder cracks loud, a roar but the monster isn't there. Maybe it's gone.
He hand snaps out for her shoulder, to stop her and pull her close, trying to gather her to him.
Thunder cracks loud, a roar but the monster isn't there. Maybe it's gone.
He hand snaps out for her shoulder, to stop her and pull her close, trying to gather her to him.
She can't stop. She doesn't want to stop. Every nerve in her is screaming that if she stops something will happen, something horrible. She just wants to get out.
She feels a hand on her shoulder. Her throat suddenly feels tight, like the hand was around her neck instead of just on her shoulder.
Or a noose. As out of nowhere as the thought is, it sends a new burst of fear and adrenaline through her. She wretches away from him, a terrified noise escaping her throat as she makes another run for it.
She feels a hand on her shoulder. Her throat suddenly feels tight, like the hand was around her neck instead of just on her shoulder.
Or a noose. As out of nowhere as the thought is, it sends a new burst of fear and adrenaline through her. She wretches away from him, a terrified noise escaping her throat as she makes another run for it.
He tries to keep her close, but she jerks away, and there's a hurt there. A small bit of anger. And fear.
Fear.
Everything in him goes cold and his head whips to the mirrors at their side. It's them. It's them.
The massive creature, his reach far longer than his own, those sharp claws wet with fresh blood, jerks the other back, a horned girl in the reflection, and she stumbles once. Then those claws are wrapped around her neck tight, too big to fit all so the rest dig into her shoulder flesh and she bleeds teal. He lifts her up high off her feet.
Fear.
Everything in him goes cold and his head whips to the mirrors at their side. It's them. It's them.
The massive creature, his reach far longer than his own, those sharp claws wet with fresh blood, jerks the other back, a horned girl in the reflection, and she stumbles once. Then those claws are wrapped around her neck tight, too big to fit all so the rest dig into her shoulder flesh and she bleeds teal. He lifts her up high off her feet.
Justine stops dead in her tracks. The pressure on her neck is worse and spreading to her shoulder, which suddenly feels inexplicably wet. She pulls at the collar of her hoodie and her breathing comes out in ragged gasps. Her eyes dart to the mirror and her blood turns to ice.
It's the horned girl, the one she'd seen as her own reflection. She watches her struggle in the air against the monster's, teal blood staining the red of her uniform. The horned girl rakes her fingers against it's arm, claws piercing her gloves and slicing into the creature's skin. Indigo leaks from the scratches.
Justine can practically hear the girl's pained choking sounds. Or maybe that's just her.
It's the horned girl, the one she'd seen as her own reflection. She watches her struggle in the air against the monster's, teal blood staining the red of her uniform. The horned girl rakes her fingers against it's arm, claws piercing her gloves and slicing into the creature's skin. Indigo leaks from the scratches.
Justine can practically hear the girl's pained choking sounds. Or maybe that's just her.
TRAITOR. The walls whisper as he stares. Polluted motherfucking tealvein, heresy all within your blood. The beast pays no mind to it's own injuries. Grant's eyes dart from the mirror scene, to Justine frozen there to the spot, then back. It's transfixing.
It's familiar. He can almost... no. He can feel it. He tastes the want of it in the air. He feels the blood on his fingers, that bit of coolness...
He lurches forward, toward Justine and as he does, the great reflection reels the other-her closer to snarl in her face as she gasps. He throws his arms around Justine and holds tight.
AIR WHAT IS BREATHED BE FUCKING TAINTED BY SHE AND THEREFORE BREATHE SHE SHOULD NOT. How dare she. HOW FUCKING DARE SHE TRY TO MAKE FOOL OF HE.
It's familiar. He can almost... no. He can feel it. He tastes the want of it in the air. He feels the blood on his fingers, that bit of coolness...
He lurches forward, toward Justine and as he does, the great reflection reels the other-her closer to snarl in her face as she gasps. He throws his arms around Justine and holds tight.
AIR WHAT IS BREATHED BE FUCKING TAINTED BY SHE AND THEREFORE BREATHE SHE SHOULD NOT. How dare she. HOW FUCKING DARE SHE TRY TO MAKE FOOL OF HE.
Justine's legs finally give out once his arms are around her. Breathing is somehow easier now- it still feels like there's a giant hand around her neck but at least she can get air into her lungs. She leans all her weight against Grant, still struggling to catch her breath but unable to tear her eyes away from the mirrors.
It's the whispers that are the worst though. That voice that feels like it's making the room shake even in a whisper. And what's worse than that is what it's saying. The words hit her like a punch in the gut. Like they're directed at her and she feels like she's done something to deserve them.
The girl bleeding teal opens her mouth to try to speak but all that comes out is a hoarse wheeze.
It's the whispers that are the worst though. That voice that feels like it's making the room shake even in a whisper. And what's worse than that is what it's saying. The words hit her like a punch in the gut. Like they're directed at her and she feels like she's done something to deserve them.
The girl bleeding teal opens her mouth to try to speak but all that comes out is a hoarse wheeze.
He grips her to keep her from dropping. The blood that isn't really there feels like ice, but there's something else, that feels like it's burning out his insides, a disconnected anger, hurt. He doesn't know what the horned girl did. He doesn't want to know.
You forsake me. FOR TWISTED THINGS WHAT AIN'T TANGIBLE. For the dead.
The reflection's expression twists. He raises another hand and reaches to tug out a silvery chain at her neck. It breaks apart and the creatures eyes narrow.
LET HER MOTHERFUCKING JOIN HIM THEN!
He just moves. The rage stops being something disconnected, and he thinks, why the fuck should it be that one's choice. Why should anyone else get to have her.
Even the other him.
He slams his fist into the glass. A hundred little blades dig deep and tear into his skin, and it hurts like hell. He can feel it shred his arm apart but it's worth it to see the image fall to bits. Everything else seems to crumble with it and Justine, Justine still there on the ground as it cracks and shatters, falls with him.
The lights come back on.
He's standing where he was before this all started. There's no thunder, no flickering in the ever beaming lights. It is god damned quiet. His knees threaten to give.
You forsake me. FOR TWISTED THINGS WHAT AIN'T TANGIBLE. For the dead.
The reflection's expression twists. He raises another hand and reaches to tug out a silvery chain at her neck. It breaks apart and the creatures eyes narrow.
LET HER MOTHERFUCKING JOIN HIM THEN!
He just moves. The rage stops being something disconnected, and he thinks, why the fuck should it be that one's choice. Why should anyone else get to have her.
Even the other him.
He slams his fist into the glass. A hundred little blades dig deep and tear into his skin, and it hurts like hell. He can feel it shred his arm apart but it's worth it to see the image fall to bits. Everything else seems to crumble with it and Justine, Justine still there on the ground as it cracks and shatters, falls with him.
The lights come back on.
He's standing where he was before this all started. There's no thunder, no flickering in the ever beaming lights. It is god damned quiet. His knees threaten to give.
Edited 2013-07-20 08:14 (UTC)
Justine's face goes ashen when she sees the necklace. She's never seen it before in her life but seeing it pulled out in the open then broken sends a stab of dread straight to the pit of her stomach.
When Grant lurches forward and drives his fist into the mirror she closes her eyes and turns away. She hears glass shattering all around her, the pressure on her neck releases but she's falling now, how is she falling-?
When she opens her eyes the light are back and she's on her feet. She jerks around, nothing but her own panicked reflection staring back at her. Everything is how it was. No beast, no horned girl bleeding teal, no broken mirror. Even the ache in her neck is gradually fading to nothing.
"...What the fuck just happened?"
When Grant lurches forward and drives his fist into the mirror she closes her eyes and turns away. She hears glass shattering all around her, the pressure on her neck releases but she's falling now, how is she falling-?
When she opens her eyes the light are back and she's on her feet. She jerks around, nothing but her own panicked reflection staring back at her. Everything is how it was. No beast, no horned girl bleeding teal, no broken mirror. Even the ache in her neck is gradually fading to nothing.
"...What the fuck just happened?"
His arm isn't bleeding. It feels like it should be. It should be covered in so much blood. But apparently, it's not. He stares numbly at his reflection, the lack of fangs, or a skull on dark skin. His hair is still long, as he's kept for years now, since he had a choice. Maybe he should get it cut.
There's nothing but dried paint under his fingernails. Just that. Just paint.
He looks at the eyes of his reflection. That odd not-blue, not-grey darkness. Purple in just the right light. In just the right darkness.
The reflection sticks like a second skin even as he pulls away. He walks feeling like a ghost, like he could pass through the walls of glass and mirrors. He sees her and forgets his tongue, so instead he takes her hand.
There's nothing but dried paint under his fingernails. Just that. Just paint.
He looks at the eyes of his reflection. That odd not-blue, not-grey darkness. Purple in just the right light. In just the right darkness.
The reflection sticks like a second skin even as he pulls away. He walks feeling like a ghost, like he could pass through the walls of glass and mirrors. He sees her and forgets his tongue, so instead he takes her hand.
Her everything feels heavy. She's sorely tempted to just lean against the mirrored wall and stay there for the rest of the night. Her own face continues to stare back at her in the mirror. Still she runs her tongue over her teeth again and again, expecting to feel a row of inhumanly sharp teeth.
When he takes her hand, her thoughts of reclining forever against the mirrors being replaced with a need to just lean against him. She gives in to it, her fingers entwined with his and her cheek against his shoulder. She raises her arm, bringing his with it, and presses her lips to his scarred knuckles.
When he takes her hand, her thoughts of reclining forever against the mirrors being replaced with a need to just lean against him. She gives in to it, her fingers entwined with his and her cheek against his shoulder. She raises her arm, bringing his with it, and presses her lips to his scarred knuckles.
He doesn't react like he would. Not joke, no smirk, no stupid look of pride like 'yeah, this one's mine', wanting to kiss her back. There's something in him that bristles and reels back, that's torn between 'as she ought's and the want to lash out.
He feels sick. Clearly that means he should raise a hand up to her face and bring his forehead to hers. It's not a wise move. He wonders if she thinks as much. Wonders if she realises that he could lower that hand just a little and wrap it around--
His eyes close tight.
He feels sick. Clearly that means he should raise a hand up to her face and bring his forehead to hers. It's not a wise move. He wonders if she thinks as much. Wonders if she realises that he could lower that hand just a little and wrap it around--
His eyes close tight.
Edited 2013-07-21 16:47 (UTC)
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