> Karkat: Enlist.
You’ve had this nightmare before.
But usually when you’re walking to your death, there are shackles around your ankles, weighing you down as you shuffle along Gallows Road.
Tonight, though, you’re moving of your own volition through the streets, a rough weathered hood pulled low over your face. Your fingers idly probe your practically concave stomach through your threadbare shirt while you walk, keeping to the shadows fringing the strange glow of the streetlamps above you. It’s a cold evening; the cobblestones under your feet are damp and there are little droplets on the windows of the vehicles lining the streets. You shiver.
You’re just a few blocks from the military office when you hear a quiet, rapid tapping from behind you, different from the sound of rats’ claws. You spin around and scowl into the darkness. “I told you not to follow me, moron,” you growl at the empty street.
A ghostly-white crab steps timidly out from behind the wheel of a shadowy stagecoach, his thin legs slowly testing the ground (and your willingness to tolerate him). He clicks softly at you.
You cross your arms. “Don’t give me that shit, Will. I’m not fucking around, I need to do this.”
Will closes and opens his left claw, shifting from side to side.
“You’ll be fine, dumbass. You can take care of yourself, you don’t need me.”
Clickclickclickclickclick.
Huff. “I’m serious! Quit following me. I’ll find you later if I get a chance.”
He takes a few steps towards you.
You snarl. “Are you even listening to me? Get out of here, go away! Shoo!” You aim a kick at him and he scuttles out of the way, disappearing into the shadows.
And he’s gone. That’s it. Huh. You turn away, rubbing the back of your neck, and continue towards the military office.
The line is long, but after an hour or two you’re ushered into a room equipped with you and an officer of some sort. You are uncomfortable. He asks you nothing more than your name and clan, then gets your height and weight and has you sign a contract. You proceed to spend an hour being poked and prodded by a few medics, before they finally tell you to report to the barracks in three days.
Once they release you, you trudge over to the nearest stoop and sit down on the ground, resting your head in your hands.
