Sep. 9th, 2013

crab: (Default)
[personal profile] crab
[ the feed clicks on to show one karkat vantas, who appears to be sitting somewhere fairly high up. it’s a stone wall, about five or six feet tall. he looks tired. his shoulders are slumped, brows knitted slightly.

more immediately noticeable than any of that, though, is the fact that he has aged about two years in the span of a few weeks.

while before, with his rounded, childish features and small, slight stature he couldn’t have looked much older than twelve, now, his face is thinner, more elongated, his jaw squarer. while his frame remains slight and bony, his shoulders and chest have begun to broaden. he has the awkward look of someone who’s just been through a sudden, rapid growth spurt, unused to the new lengths of his limbs and size of his body. he’s grown at least five inches taller. his eyes have gone from flat slate to a dull, greyish pink.

when he speaks, his voice has dropped in pitch.

Where I come from, there’s something called the Alpha Timeline. [ the quiet, rhythmic sound of the back of his heel tapping against the wall punctuates his words. ] It consists of nine parts an unbelievably complicated mess of time loops, predestination and cosmic destiny, and one part slow descent into clinical madness. The Alpha Timeline is everything.

Doomed timelines are what happen if you try to deviate from the Alpha Timeline. If you fuck with the way things are supposed to happen, the way paradox space wanted things to go, if you mess up a time loop, or if you just happen to make some arbitrary mistake that ultimately ruins everything.

[ tap, tap, tap. his faint scowl deepens. ]

Everyone in a doomed timeline is slated to die. But they don’t cease to exist. They go on “living” as ghosts in the dream bubbles, patchwork landscapes made of the memories of the dreaming and dead who inhabit them, with eerie white eyes and way too much time on their hands. They’re dead, but they’re you. They’re your friends. Creepy replicas from alternate futures that could have just as easily been yours. That were yours, in some aborted offshoot of reality.

[ the tapping stops. he bites his lip. ]

We always assume the people here who leave and come back without remembering their time here are the same ones. That time stops back home, that you have no recollection of ever being here when you go. The evidence all points to it. I guess three years meandering through a limitless abyss with a bunch of dead people and monster squids for company made me start to think about the alternative, though. That the people who don’t remember aren’t the same ones that left. Or at least, aren’t from the same timeline. That the ones who are here aren’t supposed to be. That we’re doomed.

I don’t know. [ he runs a hand through his hair, still the same unholy mess it was when he was ported out. it hangs to his shoulders now. ] It’s unlikely that time works the same way in all other realities, and we already know Lachesis can manipulate our memories and pull us from any point in our personal timeline she feels like. It wouldn’t be much of a big deal to wipe our memories and send us back to the exact point we came from.

But the thing meeting all those alternate selves made me think about was, how do you even define your identity? The only thing that differentiated all those dead Karkats and Nepetas and Eridans from each other were their memories, the things that went differently for them. Our being here makes us different people than the ones we were back home. We are alternates, copies of our alpha selves, but our existence has an expiration date. When Lachesis wipes our memories and sends us back, that identity is obliterated. If we were doomed, though, we’d still exist. For boring, endless eternity. Like, how do you even occupy yourself all that time? What do ghosts even do with themselves to pass the millennia?

Kind of a tough call, which is worse.

[ he shrugs, and starts to move, like he’s thinking about getting down off the wall. ]

I think I just-- [ but whatever he thinks is cut off. not paying attention to what he’s doing, he loses his balance, drops his communicator. there’s a blur of motion as it falls, karkat’s shout, the clatter of the communicator and the thud of his body against the sidewalk, and the feed cuts out. ]
gandere: (Default)
[personal profile] gandere
H-Hey, is there anyone who can help me with this?

[ Generally when Rin Tohsaka's com accesses the network, it is expected that a large amount of screeching about dumb stuff is to follow. Today is no exception, save for the fact that her screaming is drowned out by the sound of cats. Several of them meowing in the background as she frantically waves her free hand. ]

I went out to buy cat litter and came back to find out my cats had kittens! Mutant kittens! See, look! [ Holding the communicator towards one of them, the cat actually looks to be much older than a kitten by a couple years. ] See--they're all fully grown! P-Plus, I thought my cats were fixed so that's another thing that idiot must have screwed up on.

[ Augh! ] Next time I'll just have to do it myself, but um, when should I take mutant cats to the vet? These kittens are all going to have to be neutered and spayed, aren't they? Oh no, what if Idiot already was and he still somehow got my precious baby pregnant because he's a cat with superpowers?! What if they start shooting fire out of their mouths or lasers from their eyes--Oh no, cats like chasing lasers! I'll have to seclude that one from the rest or else they'll all die!

[ OOC: A certain [personal profile] feathery asshole decided to use Rin's place as a shelter since she already owns two cats. There's not that many there, just about six new additions, but anyone who's familiar with Roxy's old "pets" might recognize them! ]


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