“Oh, thank the sweet sweet messiahs. I think my ears are already bleeding at the mere promise of more sick rhymes from the one and only. My bursting eardrums will be a most pleasant back-beat for your terminal verses.”
=> You can feel him staring at you again and you can’t help but shiver under his gaze. It’s like he’s searching for something, trying to put the pieces together as to what makes you tick. You almost snap at him but he seems to have snapped out of it, rambling on about Lord English and- wait, did he say he’s been sitting here for a goddamn year?!
“You deep fried piece of fermented dog shit, no wonder your voice sounds like you ran it through the meat grinder. You haven’t spoken for a goddamn year?!”
=> You want to reach up and cuff him in the back of the head but the 5 inch height difference between you would just make it look stupid.
=> So now you know he’s dead, which is both a reassurance and a hinderance. You have no idea of knowing what timeline he’s from, and the variability within all of them can make for awkward conversation if one is to slip up - but then again, this is Dave Fucking Strider. He doesn’t have an awkward bone in his body, and if he does, it’s completely buried beneath a long running facade. So that’s a slight reassurance.
“Pretty basic fucking story. Was alive. Charged Gamzee. Stabbed twice and tossed into a big pit of lava. Not alive anymore. Woke up. Swore at the universe for being such a shitbag. Wandered around for god knows how long. Now I’m here, up to my horns in idiots and assholes. I can’t escape this hell. Your bubble is quiet so I wandered around for a while, and lo and behold, I was run into (most literally) by yet another asshole. That’s where you come in. And now we’re here. End of the story, goodfuckingnight.”
“Oh, ouch dude, I’m hur--hurt.”
==> You press a hand against where your heart would be, where you used to be able to feel your heartbeat pounding against your ribcage, and feigned being stabbed, or even shot through the heart. You’re not sure if anything’s even inside your chest anymore, since you’re dead. It wouldn’t surprise you any, honestly, if there was just a fake representation of a heart, to make it seem normal.
“My rhymes are no--nothing close to making someone’s ears bleed. Ju--just because I haven’t been at it in a while, doesn’t me--mean that I’m not the bomb at it still. Not even Dirk can stand up to me this time around. The best of the best, promise guaranteed, Karka--Karkat.”
==> Oh, he noticed what you said.
==> Your lips curl downwards in a slight show of disapproval, maybe even discomfort. But it shortly disappears as you realize: he doesn’t know what happened. All he knows is that you’re dead and you haven’t spoken in a long time, and it’s why you’re speaking like you’re just going into puberty. Nothing else. ... You contemplate explaining things to him, but you just... sigh, instead.
==> You shove your hands into your pockets and visibly turn your gaze down to the ground, not really knowing how to say what happened, or why he was here without getting angry, or telling Karkat something his own Dave probably wasn’t even close to. Despite sharing the same name, you’ve long since come to the realization that you’re all different from each other, for better or for worse.
==> When you finally do speak up, your voice is lower, as to relate to his words, his confessions of his death. You don’t like how you died - your death didn’t change anything, as per usual. The woes of a Time player are plentiful.
“Look, I’m sorry. Abo--about how you died. I hadn’t... gotten that far in my timeline, and I probably ne--never was going to. I was... trying to protect Jade, on m--my end. Turns out, she di--didn’t need to be saved--I did. As fu--fucking usual, my help came a minute too la--late, and I woke up in a bubble by myself and was eventually found by Dirk after roaming for a while, i--irritating everyone I ca--came across until... yeah. B--but I’m, glad. To see you again. It’s been a long time. It doesn’t seem like there’s very many of you ar--around these par--parts anymore, and that’s fine--great, actually, I just---Everyone needs to stay the fuck alive, for real; dying is the Strider game. We don’t do it for yo--you all to start killin’ yourselves shortly afterwards, that’s not what heroes d--do. Her--heroes die to save others... but I’m not no da--damn hero. What kinda fuckin’ h--hero dies in the middle of their journey anyways? Leave their friends be--behind? Impulsively react on things? A ba--bad one. ... But, ye--yeah, other than that, how’s it goin’ fo--for you?”
==> Did he just admit to missing Karkat?
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