The sound of rapid footsteps awakes you from unconsciousness. A violent pain begins to throb at your side. Glancing down, you examine your hip, noticing there's a huge gash. Well. Fuck. It's not like you didn't know it was there, you just fucking forgot after you passed out. The sound was getting increasing louder as they inched closer towards the enterance of the cave you were held up in. You unhook your sickle from its sheath and scooch back as far back as you can, until your back hits the end of the cave.
Holding your sickle tight against your chest, you feel your self-level switch to battle mode. All of your sense heighten, and quiet growls begin to pour out of your throat.
The footsteps begin to slow as your growling starts. You hear someone say something in a low, cryptic voice. Despite having very keen auricular sponge clots, you can't seem to understand what the troll is saying. As the voice stops, the footsteps begin to move again, 4 sets of feet scrambling past your cave. You analyze the noise of their feet stomping against the gound, and you realize it isn't quite like the sound from before. It's missing another set of feet. Where's the other guy?
Once the sounds of feet fades, you hear shuffling across the dirt outside, and your growling begins to pick up in volume.
What you can make out as a troll's legs and its feet, stands in front of the tiny entrance of the cave. It bends, revealing a... grass skirt? No, it's brown cloth wrapped around its waist, dumbdumb. Who the fuck wears grass skirts anymore? That shit went out of fashion sweeps ago.
A hand pokes into the entrance, and then a type of "tsk tsk tsk" noise sounds. The troll's three center fingers begin to wiggle.
"Here, kitty kitty kitty." The troll says. It's the same voice from before. He must thing you're a scared, hiding meowbeast or something. To be honest, you are. Minus the meowbeast part of course.
Your growling grows louder, and the troll laughs in a low tone.
"C'mon, kitty, I wont hurt ya." He says again. You snarl at him, hissing afterwards. "Fine, if ya wont come out, then I'll come in and get you out."
The grip on your sickle tightens in your hands as he bends down and rests on his knees for a second before crawling in a bit.
The man has shaggy, messy hair, and long twisted horns. An indigo blindfold covers his eyes, with what looks like a ":o(" and a "(o:" over where his eyes should be. There are several beaded necklaces hanging off his scarred chest.
He lifts his blindfold with one finger and is surprised at what he sees. Fucker really did think you were a meowbeast. What, can he not tell the difference between a meowbeasts growl and a trolls?
"Oh, shit..." The man whispered to himself. He looked you over with concern. You growl loudly at him. "Shhhhshsh... It's alright, bro, no need to be afraid..."
He crawls toward you, slowly. You feel yourself beginning to panic, and your body starts shaking.
"I'm not gonna hurt ya, don't worry." He tells you, voice calm and quiet. You swallow hard, trying to scooch back more.
"Go away!" You shout, voice cracking. He only crawls closer, not flinching one bit as you whip your sickle at him. It cuts his cheek, but he pays no mind to it. You wince as you move your arm the wrong way, feeling your wound rip open. You put pressure on the gash in the side of your hip.
He stops in front of you, and sits. You stare up at him, your eyes wide with ear.
"Lemme see it." The troll says staring directly at your blood stained hand. You hiss at him, and he grabs your wrist, tugging it away from the wound. You whimper as your claws dig into the wound as he pulls them away.
He looks over the gash before reaching into one of the many bags he has tied around his waist. He pulls out what looks like a bottle of green ointment and bandages.
He sets them down beside him and reaches for the buttons on your pants. You kick him in the stomach, pushing him backward.
"Shit, man, why'd you do that?" The troll asks.
"When someone who I have no business knowing tries to unbutton my pants, I either cut their fucking throat, or kick them away." You snarl. "You're lucky I didn't do the first option."
"Well, the pants are gonna have to either come off or be pulled down so I can get at that nasty gash and patch you up, brother."
"I'm fine..." You say, voice heavy. "Just leave me the fuck alone, highblood."
"Nuh uh." He replies. "And, I'm no highblood. I'm just Gamzee."
You stare at him.
"But..." You pause. "You're a subjuggulator. Why aren't you wearing that title like it's a fucking trophy-"
"Bro," The troll, whose name is apparently Gamzee, begins. "I never asked to be hatched a highblood. All I want is peace."
Wait a second.
You look him over once more. Suddenly, all he's saying makes sense to you.
"You're a tribal..." You say quietly.
"Shhh," He puts a finger to your lips. "Now, let me unbutton your motherfuckin' pants."
You swallow, nodding. You slump back against the wall as this stranger begins to unbutton your pants. You feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Once he's finished unbuttoning them, he tugs down the side of the fabric to get at the wound. Gamzee pops open the lid of the ointment and dips two fingers into it.
"This might sting a bit." He warns you. You nod again and bite you lip. He spreads the ointment on the gash gently, but you cry out in pain regardless. "Shhhshhhsh." He paps you lightly with his free hand. As soon as that's all done, he unravels the bandages.
"Lift your shirt up."
You do as he says. Gamzee begins to wrap your entire waist up with gauze bandages, and then does a second layer. He tapes the ending piece down.
"There we go." He says to himself, looking you over once more. He motions for you to follow him. "C'mon."
He crawls out of the cave, expecting you to follow him. You sigh, and follow him out. He saved you from bleeding out, so doing as he says is the least you could do. It was one of the rules that the Threshecutioner's Corp forced on you, and you can't help but stay loyal to their code. Once you're out of the cave, Gamzee slings an arm around your shoulder. He begins to lead you towards what looks like a camp from what you can see. Your self-lever switched back to normal, and you feel yourself calming down. You're not sure why. Normally, you'd still be cautious if a total stranger was taking you somewhere you didn't have an knowledge of. But, for some reason, you feel completely relaxed.
"So, mind tellin' me how you all up and got that nasty motherfuckin' gash?" He asks, and you roll your eyes.
"How the fuck do you /think/ I got it?" You answer with another question. "Some asshole stabbed me."
"Why'd you get stabbed?" He asks, and you groan. You're not in the mood for such annoyance.
"Why do you think?!" You repeat yourself, this time, your voice raised.
"I dunno, bro." Gamzee shrugs, papping your cheek.
"Stop papping me, you nauseating shitstain!" You hiss, swatting his hand away from your face. "Saving me doesn't give you the fucking right to pap me."
"Just tryin'a help you relax is all." He sighs, and you sigh with him.
"I know, I'm sorry..." You apologize quietly. "It's just... This is the first time in a while that I've interacted with someone who didn't want to kill me."
"Nah, It's alright, man." Gamzee pats your back. "I understand how that is. So, tell lil ol' Gamzee why another motherfucker stabbed ya."
You stay silent for a moment, reluctant over whether or not you should tell this complete stranger the story. You guess it couldn't hurt. He did save you, after all.
"Well..." You begin, starting to reconsider talking again. Shaking your head, you decide to man up and tell him. "... I have a bounty over my head.. And, I made the mistake of going into a town that's empire allied, and they all went shithive maggots and tried to kill me. As you can see, one guy managed to land a hit on me, thus resulting in this horribly disgusting, painful gash in my god damn hip."
"Shit, bro, sorry that happened to ya." Gamzee sighs. "You should probably stay out of towns until this stuff blows over, man."
"Yeah, no shit." You roll your eyes yet again. "Wasn't planning on going back anyway."
An awkward silence looms over you and the tribal. You stare at the ground under you as Gamzee leads you to the entrance of the camp. Instantly, a smokey smell fills your sniffnodes, throwing you into an endless coughing fit. The smoke gets thicker, causing the coughing to worsen.
"Jesus, what the fuck-" You say before bursting into another fit of coughs. The fucking smoke is so thick and is too much for your baby airsacs.
"Never smelled hookah smoke before, brother?" Gamzee laughs as he leads you to a circle of sitting tribal indigo, teal, and olivebloods who are sitting in the center of the camp, surrounding a large machine. You shake your head in response to his question, covering your mouth with some of your cape. "You haven't lived until you've smoked that shit."
"Fuck you so hard up the wastechute with a goddamn 4 wheeled transportation device if you think I'm letting that shit enter my airsacs!" You growl, a slight cough in your voice.
"Now that I think about it, you do seem a little too young for smokin' hookahs." Gamzee says, a familiar tone in his voice. You know exactly what he's doing. Trying to peer pressure you by using reverse psychology. That snide asshole. But, you wont fall for that. Not again. You've let it happen before, and it led you into some bad situations.
"How old are ya, anyways?" He asks.
"8." You respond truthfully. Admittedly, you are rather young, but you get what you want with no age restrictions to worry about. You're the fucking Captain of the Threshecutioners Corp. Well, you /were/ Captain of the Threshecutioners Corp. But, you can still get what you want!
"Damn, bro, you're still a grub!" The tribal exclaims, stretching his words slightly.
"Yeah?" You say, setting your voice into a questioning tone. "And just how old are YOU, hm? Answer me that, Mr. Tribal."
"13 sweeps, brother." Gamzee says, a slight chuckle in his voice. Your jaw drops open in pure astonishment. He's almost the same age as Lieutenant Ampora.
"YOU'RE SO OLD!" You shout, still shocked by the answer you received. Gamzee begins to laugh again, this time, much harder.
"Older than I look, aren't I?" He continues to laugh. Soon, he cools down, and his attention falls to his fellow tribals. "Yo, I forgot what your name was. Back a brother up and tell me what it was again?"
"What, is your thinkpan failing you, old man?" You say in a serious voice, but in a joking manner. "The reason you don't remember my name is because I never told you it in the first place."
"Then motherfuckin' tell me." Gamzee says, and you grunt in response. What if he turns you into the Drones? They'll be here in an instant, and you'd have no time to flee. You'd be culled on the spot. You don't want to die. You have so much left to do, so much left to live for. You've never even had a proper Matesprit or Kismesis! Kanaya was right, your quadrants have been a total mess since the start. You miss Kanaya. You miss her so fucking much. "Bro, you still there?"
"Wha-" You're snapped back to reality by Gamzee's low, steady voice. "Yeah, yeah... Sorry... My name's Karkat..."
Fuck, now you can't stop thinking about Kanaya. God dammit, Vantas. Way to throw yourself into another whirl of fucking depression over the ordeal. You should just shut up before you make yourself anymore upset.
Gamzee removes his arm from your shoulder and claps his hands twice. Once again, you're brought back to reality, this time brought back to the sight of eyes on you and Gamzee.
"Brothers and Sisters!" He calls to them. "We have a guest tonight! This limeblooded motherfucker is my new friend, Karkat. Treat him with respect and make him feel safe and welcome in our home."
One by one, they all stood up and approached you. All of them greeted you, shaking your hand with warm smiles on their faces. It made you feel warm inside, seeing the smiles of these strangers. The sight of others happy has always made /you/ happy. Once all of the tribals finished shaking your hand, Gamzee put his hand on your shoulder.
"Hey, Karbro," Gamzee begins. "There's someone ya gotta meet."
