thearena | Past, present and future tense. [closed]

Entry tags:

Past, present and future tense. [closed]

Who | Dave and Rose.
What | Dave finds out his sister is here, chaos ensues.
When | First day of the Arena, later in the day.
Where | Probably around the village.
Warnings/Notes | Horrors of the Arena? Sibling angst??

Through everything that happened between now and god knows how long ago, Dave has barely had time to deal with Rose leaving. He'd barely had time to deal with her being there at all, there were levels they just didn't click on and things they could never agree on. He'd been glad to have her and protect her while she could, but the sense that she wasn't his Rose was as apparent as the fact that he wasn't the right Dave for her.

The weird vacancy he feels without Rose hadn't quite been filled by her, but it felt emptier when she was gone. It's like the glass half-empty that got knocked over. You were disappointed that you didn't have enough AJ and now you have none at all, good going chump.

Now, as he fully expected would happen, he's heard word that she's back. Back and different. He hates the way excitement flutters in him, he hates to be happy to see someone he misses more than he cares to admit. He hates that he can't hold back from trying to find her even if he knows it's something like a literal needles in a haystack case here. The dread of what the Capitol can do will set in later, for now he just needs to find her and catch her up on everything before someone else tries to embarrass her.

This Arena is proving beneficial, because the village seems to be something of a brief gathering points. It's as if most people have learned a sense of professionalism where the Arena is concerned. The first murders happen at Cornucopias, then people convene and go their separate ways so that the killing can progress through the coming weeks. He still has time before they all dissipate and finding her is impossible. He searches through the broken down houses of the village and around the outskirts of the castle, all 5'9 of him hidden under the heavy robes of a nun costume, shades and tufts of blond hair still apparent around his freckled face.

It's along this path that he comes across someone head to toe in wizard garb, and they definitely aren't Merlyn. He isn't close enough to see their face and his eyes thin behind his shades, his approach wary as he postures himself to be at least a little intimidating.

The eyes are what get him. He'd know those anywhere, even from a distance. He doesn't know if the familiarity is dawning on her, but he's hitching up his stupid, nun skirt and jogging toward her anyway. He hasn't said anything yet, he doesn't know what to say. He stops a few feet away from her and finally drops his skirt, raising a brow at her. Was she always this short? God, don't tell him she's from another timeline. He can't take it. It takes everything to swallow that train of thought and push forward with his best blank face.

"Sup?" Don't be a zombie.

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Rose, fortunately, is not a zombie. She is younger though, apparent in the shape of her face in addition to her shorter height as she turns to better face the fucking nun that just jogged up to her. The costume tells her nothing, but the tufts of blond, the shape of his features, and those shades--

"Dave? Why are you--" Older, taller, wearing that ridiculous getup, here at all. It's too many questions, and she drops them together with the hitched-up hem of her robe. It's muddy anyway from traipsing out to the castle and back, but it's easier to walk without the stupid thing tripping her feet.

She ignores it as she steps closer. Anna had said he was a teenager, and she can suppose that's true, but it didn't really prepare her for this. He's a nun, she's a crap wizard, and they're in a stinking, rotting village in the middle of a death game.

"I don't know where to start," she admits helplessly. "How long have you been here?"

Edited (nips at typos) 2015-05-26 05:04 (UTC)

Now that he's approached her properly, it's easier to take in the nuances of her appearance. It's been a long, long time since he saw his own Rose up close. Even when he went home, they'd only been in the vicinity of each other without speaking before it all went to shit.

It's worse than a different timeline. She's younger. Much younger. He doesn't know how much she's missed, but the thought of explaining everything from so far back until now is enough to make him rub his hand tiredly over his face.

"A year and a bit." He answers, voice lower naturally and not because he's forcing it to sound cool. Mostly. "Little short for a wizard, don't you think?" He doesn't step closer, he stays right where he is with the same guarded stance still keeping him in place.

Rose's lips slowly press together as she takes him in. His stance and body language are telling in a way: there's a stiffness, a wariness, an apprehension. Her own shoulders sit tense under the heavy fall of the robe.

"You look older than just that," she says as her tone settles into something more measured. "You'll have to pardon me for not being as hip and stylish as you. They didn't give me a choice of costume; it was either this or the pajamas." The purple ones, Derse ones, emblazoned with a moon.

She swallows tightly.

"Dave, what happened? We were--" How does she even say it? "I didn't expect to... be anywhere, much less a decaying fantasy village."

"I probably am." It's a curt, vague and unhelpful answer. He wants her to explain what's wrong here, he wants it to be her words and not his. Instead of all that, he chooses to focus on the complaints. It's so much easier to be irreverent when they're talking about Capitol mandated fun.

"They'll dress you in a lot of things, you'll also figure out the choice part doesn't matter a hell of a lot. It's very Winston Smith meets Battle Royale." He trusts she'll understand at least one of those references and he feels the time has come to be serious.

He exhales, forcing himself not to get too far ahead of himself. Take it slow, baby steps, ease her into it and for the love of god don't make it into an analysis of your psyche. "What happened is that the Ringmaster can bring in anyone he likes from anywhere, anytime. Past, future and present included. I've never met anyone further along the timeline than I was, though. Probably not a surprise, all time things considered. Would you rather talk about why we're here or do we want to talk about why I'm blossoming into a fine young filly and you're still climbing into the shadowy depths of puberty? Because both of those topics suck and we should talk about something better, like baseball. We could throw the ol' pigskin around, forget all the hard stuff. You can ask me about my dreams and I can tell you you're a lesbian."

Rose breathes a sigh through her nose. It's him, alright. No one else can be this frustratingly evasive, except perhaps herself. It runs in the family.

She rubs a hand over her face. "As much as I'd like to explore your new found proclivity for projecting your sexuality issues onto me, along with yet more terrible sports analogies, I'm still floundering with the basics." The hand drops.

"But okay, bad dystopian novel. I gathered that much myself. And time shenanigans are fully in evidence. I ran into Anna earlier; she said she knew you, and another version of me who was middle-aged. Was she from my far-flung future, or is something else at hand? And how long have you all been waiting around for this game, because I've only just arrived."

"Never in my entire life did I ever think I'd be disappointed to hear you say that. You have no idea how much I'd rather talk about my less than dormant homosexual desires than this bullshit. That is exactly how dire this is, Rose." He follows that with a severe look so she knows just how sincere he is about all of this, but he's untensing ever so slowly. It's her. She's younger and it's weird, but it's her. It's hard not to be overwhelmed with how much he missed her, it's hard to keep up the arm-length approach to affection that the Strilondes have perfected over the years.

Hugs later. Maybe. Real talk now or it will never happen and he'll embarrass himself more.

"Yeah, Anna clued me in. She's great, you'll love her. She's uh.." Dating Bro. That's a minefield. "I'll catch you up on the gossip later." He nods both to her and himself. Nice save. "The older version of you was definitely from another timeline. Or a time loop? Kind of back to square one and reversed backwards where my Bro and your Mom were the kids and we did a crap job raising them for once. Also one where the Troll Empress found her way to Earth and enslaved it. She had a real hate-on for all of the ones we have here because of it." He circles his hand through the air has he goes on, then it goes limp when she makes her last enquiry.

"About a month or so since the last one. They run in cycles, bout two months long at a time. Sometimes they throw in a twenty-four hour one for kicks, I've been in those. I've done this about seven times now, died every time too."

Edited 2015-05-26 15:14 (UTC)

Less than dormant? Her eyebrow raises. She'll have to put it on the calendar for later, if there is a later for this game. But the look he gives along with his slowly easing tension is an odd sort of relief. While she doesn't like having the situation to be like this - she never asked to be in a death game, even if she had just stolen a suicide mission from him (circumstantial!) - it feels freer somehow. Like he's trusting her more, despite everything, and that she appreciates when everything else is so topsy turvy.

She does listen while he goes on, quiet and attentive, with a nod back for the one he gives. Gossip later. And while what she's told of her other self is both unexpected and deeply fascinating, it's the last part that draws her words first with the widening of her eyes.

"Are you serious? That many deaths, and yet..." She motions emptily. "You've been revived, somehow?"

If it's true, it does answer something she was wondering at. Anna hadn't been clear on the timeframe she'd known other-Rose for, and Dave did claim he's been here over a year. It seems a long time to wait for just one game, especially if they were shuffling around the players, and bringing one like herself in here at the last moment.

He's not sure if he meant to let that slip, but it's out there now. It's out and so is he? Heh. Save that one for later, Strider. More importantly, he should probably feel a little bad for flagrantly outing her like that, but it gives him some sense of how far back she is.

It needs to be asked, he knows. He needs to figure out what she remembers, how willing she is to hear what happened and most importantly he needs to make sure he never tells her how badly things have gone so far. He doesn't want to crumble those foundations before she can see them herself, but he doesn't know how deeply she'll indulge those powers of hers either.

"Kind of like back home, yeah. That happened a few times, but weaseling out of consequences is kind of the tagline there. Here it's like.. I dunno. Like they take us back, give us a few pumps from the defibrillator, patch us up and send us out to be lauded with praise from the masses." He points around vaguely, then waves. "This is all televised. Smile, they're probably eating up the whole reunion thing."

And then it happens. He puts a hand on her shoulder for show, and he wants so badly to refrain from sincere affection when he knows they'll make a mockery of it, but it could be good for her. If they see what she means, they might not take her away so fast. So his hand winds around her shoulders and he guides her against his chest, his other arm rising up to rest around her and all but envelope her in his stupid nun-sleeves. He rests his chin on her head, then dips it lower so he can murmur low against her ear.

"If you get yourself in trouble, all the government grunts won't have a thing on my unholy nun-rage directed at your stupid, goth face." Then he pulls back, resting his cheek against the top of her head with a sigh. "I missed this."

She still doesn't know he meant that comment, the one about her, but from what he says they'll have plenty of time to piece out all the details later. It's hard to take something she's teased him over for so long as a real admission when all this other heavy shit is hanging over them, waiting for the ropes to snap.

"Televised?" she asks before she can get to any other thought. She looks around but sees no cameras, and hasn't for all her storming about earlier.

It provides just distraction enough that Dave gets his chance to get his arm around her, and it's happening. He is making this shit OCCUR. Rose for her part tenses up at the surprise contact, but he's warm and he's taller and maybe, just maybe she needed this. It's been too much today: her mom is dead, she was just about to die with him before coming here, and all this is a lot to take in after all the chaos of Sburb. She's hearing it and cataloging it, but barely any has had time to absorb. He's older than her, years older, and she's not yet sure what that means.

She slips her wide-sleeved arms around to encircle his waist. "I suppose I can offer some ironic indulgence for your fans," she says, but the clutch of her hands speaks sincerity.

She heard the warning, though. She chooses not to answer it.

After a moment she pulls back some herself, more reluctant than she'll admit to herself to disengage entirely. "I'd ask if we could find a place to sit and talk, but I doubt we'd find a chair that isn't mouldering in this place." She tips her head up to meet his gaze through the shades. "You have a lot to tell me. The Tumor wasn't the end, was it?"

"Everything we do, they see. All the time." The inflection there is subtle, he doesn't want to sound too openly resentful of the Capitol's penchant for rubber-necking the ins and outs of their daily lives, but he wants Rose to be aware. He is, in some ways, pleased that he has a good excuse to hug her because he can't fathom doing it for the sake of doing it. He can quite easily slip into it with Karkat and Feferi and even Clementine and Anna, but Rose is a different beast entirely. The posturing never stops where she's concerned, not when she can see through him like he's composed entirely of cellophane like a shitty craft project.

He can still appreciate it. For the moment. He can feel she needs it when she doesn't back off from the affection, but it feels a little weird with her being so small. It's like it's igniting even more protectiveness in him and he knows neither he nor Rose really wants it to be like that. Just because she's young doesn't mean she's incompetent, but so much has happened that he doubts he'll ever feel equal footing between them ever again.

Dave is used to being two steps ahead of everyone, he's just used to Rose knowing exactly where he's going.

The hug ends fairly naturally, Dave lets his arms slip away slowly without trying to cling or back off like he resents the contact. "It's that or rats. I'd say a thatch roof but they aren't... They're not very sturdy." He scoffs, rubbing his back for dramatic effect without trying to draw attention to it. "Look, if you want to talk we might as well sit any old place like peasants in the mud, but we better make sure it's somewhere hidden. Gossiping out in the open is a fast track to death around here, you'd be surprised how many people hate a good conversation."

He evades the question for the moment, gesturing for her to follow as he starts to head toward some of the nearer shacks. If she follows, he'll start to peer around to make sure they're deserted before he steps inside for some privacy.

"Found that out the hard way, did you?" she murmurs, catching the gesture. But it's fine by her not to sit on a roof. They'd be targets up there, easy to see, and she's not much for that. She's already ran into one person with a monster in his stomach, who would have liked to eat her if she'd shown the feathers of the kind of bird he was after.

(He was a crap liar. Jesus, Nitou, learn how to deceive.)

But there's no real answer yet, clear now as he steps off. She follows a step later.

It's a lot to think about still, even in this small snatch between standing and making their way into the shack. Cameras on them constantly - she heard that clearly, the inflection too, and it sits heavy and solid in her mind. She never thought to be a TV star, but this isn't even that, and the 1984 meets Battle Royale comparison sits all the more aptly than it already did.

She can't shake the feeling, too, that he's stalling. She can't figure whether to be annoyed or relieved for the brief respite from the bomb sure to come, and ends up settling into a wary middle as she steps inside after him. It's about as decrepit as she expected. Watching the floor for rats and refusing any furniture that might be about, she steps around so she can face him again, and sets her arms into an uneasy fold.

Here she says nothing. Her look is silent, expectant, but patient enough to let him start on his own.

Her question, of course, goes without answer. Dave doesn't need to relive that moment, but he's sure he'll see it repeated in the Best Of reels once this Arena is said and done. The priority is finding somewhere private, and internally he's trying to figure out a short, cohesive way to explain everything that he's been through since their timelines split.

In the end, there's quite a bit on the metaphorical chopping board. There's a lot he's not willing to tell her, there are things he doesn't want to have to explain. Not in front of a live audience. Not ever. How do you tell someone that their life crumpled into a drunken stupor? How do you tell them that and explain how little you managed to help in the end? How the fuck is he meant to finish up that little anecdote and move on to tell her that it is over for him. That she's probably back home and burying him in the ground because his run of the game is over.

He can't, and he won't. He feels sick even thinking about it. He doesn't want her pity or her misery over it, he'll leave that stone unturned for her if he can help it.

"Alright so, the last thing you remember is The Green Sun, right?" He even does some jazz hands to account for the fact that he can't make his words ominous and green. "That wasn't the end for us, no. We didn't succeed either, though. We died and we were resurrected by game shenanigans as God Tiers. Me in an awesome cape and you dressed up like a 90's rave hippy. We rose up to meet up with the remainder of the trolls who didn't kill each other and.. well. We got hornswoggled. We did fuck all with the damn sun, Scratch duped us. It just got bigger in the end? I dunno, it's been a really long time." He circles his hand through the air as he talks. "We spent about 3 years on that hunk of rock. I dated Terezi, we broke up. You have some thing with Kanaya and you ditch me for dates. We meet more trolls, they're all awful and that's about all there is to say. We're waiting for the meteor to take us someplace. Uhh- Oh yeah. We're going to another universe and, check this. It's where old Rose was from. The one where our Mom and Bro are kids and we're the fuck-up adults. So at some point, we're going to meet them for more than a few seconds. Is this too much? Should I stop?"

Edited 2015-06-07 06:10 (UTC)

Rose murmurs a nice gesture as he launches in, because it is a good substitute for the flashy green font, but otherwise doesn't interrupt. There's a lot to take in even with her own future teenage alcoholism left out, and it's possibly for the better that it is. It would be too much now on top of everything, to learn that after all that she sunk into the same kind of problems as her mother without being remotely in the position to know why, and how no one managed to draw her out of it.

As it stands she listens well, lips pursing together as she takes in each piece of information, cataloging what to comment on and what to wonder about and what to leave for later. Even then it's hard to figure out how to attack it, particularly with points that come up that she thought were jokes or didn't get to ask more about earlier.

She finds by the end that she wishes she could trust the furniture more, because she wants very much to sit down.

"The Green Sun wasn't there," she says after a moment, omitting any jazz hands of her own. Her gaze is down and fixed on some spot of floor. "Just this empty spot where it should have been. You and I found our quest beds, and deployed the bomb, and waited--and it was a couple seconds to detonation when I found myself suddenly here." Not here here, but in Panem, waking up to strangers and too little explanation.

There's another pause, a moment of thought as she thinks what to ask next.

"I take it where we were headed would be the post-scratch universe. Doc Scratch did tell me we would have lived different lives there..."

Another pause, a sigh, and if she weren't so mentally exhausted from everything she'd be laughing at the topic her mind comes back to. She looks up again.

"I really dated Kanaya? You weren't kidding about the... the lesbian thing?" It feels ridiculous; she's only a handful of months into age 13, and not yet had cause to engage on the journey of self discovery that is discovering you're queer as a three dollar bill. "I only started to get to know her today," she finishes helplessly.

There's a mix of feelings welling up in her now, tired and frustrated and almost mad. What the hell is she doing here? Three years now, three years between them, three years she could have spent getting to know him as her brother and figuring out what being a god tier Seer of Light is and knowing the trolls better, seeing them, figuring out her own issues for herself. Just like that it's been snatched up, and if she ever goes back, who knows what will happen?

She feels her hands curl and clench at her sides, but pushes herself to ask in a voice that is tellingly stiff, "What about John and Jade?"

Edited (fixes a word) 2015-06-07 07:23 (UTC)

"Well, it turned up. It got bigger." But that explains some things, at least. What, for any person, would be the biggest and most traumatic moment of a person's life now seems like a faded, old memory of something faintly embarrassing that happened a long time ago. It's still a pinnacle of achievement given that it ties into ascending and meeting the trolls, but it's like that time you won the Spelling Bee when you're midway through finals for your English Major.

"Guess he didn't lie out his ass about everything, then." It's been a while since he thought about the guy, even. He still finds it very easy to hate him, as he should.

"No, I wasn't. Sorry I had to spoil that for you, I figured it was worth knowing about. At least she's never been here, as far as I know?" He's not sure if that's actually helpful, but he tried. "Jade ascended, shrunk down some planets and took John, Davesprite and herself and she's headed in the same direction. I think. We'll all end up in the same session, I know that much." Wow, that was a huge lie.

Turned up? Got bigger? She squints at his still vague wording, thinks back to how frustrating and indirect Doc Scratch was - pot and kettle - until it clicks. "We made it," she states, not asking. "We were tricked into causing its existence."

Because of course they would be, of course all the tangle of time and space out there would resolve into that nonsense, and she can't resist rubbing he hand across her face. There is no almost now; she is mad, water over heat starting to simmer.

She looks up with plain disappointment at the news Kanaya isn't around. She wouldn't be able to dive into a relationship her future self had at all, but maybe she could have explained or helped her understand or at least become better friends with her. It's ridiculous and frustrating and so very unfair. She can't figure herself out on her own, and she can't even reap the benefits of learning from the end product. It's Sburb setting them up for failure all over again; it's railroading without the time loops; it's having knowledge right before her and being unable to touch a single piece of it.

It's infuriating, is what it is, and she turns suddenly to kick over an old, weathered chair. It's not as satisfying as she wishes, and in the clattering aftermath she breathes out harshly, hands clutched into tight, trembling fists with arms locked straight.

She doesn't look at him. She doesn't explain it.

"Who's here?"

Edited 2015-06-09 14:36 (UTC)

"Right." He snaps his fingers, pointing toward her when she does. "That's exactly what happened." Probably. He remembers something along those lines, but his memory was never great and now there's so much crammed into it that it's beginning to resemble an overstuffed hot pocket with cheese bursting out the sides.

He keeps a careful watch with no commentary, letting her work through her frustration however she pleases. He can't really imagine turning the tables and having an older Rose deal with a younger version of himself. He doesn't even want to imagine himself at that stage existing here, not when he was such a colossal and underdeveloped moron in every sense. The same could probably be said of her, but it's almost like they grew in opposite directions. It's like his thirteen year old self was the one with an addiction to apathy and pretenses and easy ways out and he was the big, sloppy mess that needed help while Rose soldiered on.

It hurts to think about letting her slip that badly, so he focuses on the hurts of now.

"Karkat. You know Karkat? Terezi. Bro. A troll from Karkat's theater troupe called Feferi. Some older trolls from another timeline. That's it." He draws in a breath, as if he has something to say, but he lets it out slowly and shrugs. "Only three humans. Other than Bro and the older trolls, for obvious reasons, you'd be the furthest back on the timeline."

Rose is so caught up in dealing with the hand she's been dealt that she doesn't care to imagine how alternatives might go. They're useless to her situation.

She listens to him list off names, and perks to finally look at him when he mentions Bro, because wasn't Bro dead? But then, timelines--and any hope of her mom being among the number is cut. Her lips press tight again, then she turns to face him fully.

"I recognize some names, but Terezi is the one one I've spoken to out of those, if I recall right." It was earlier today from her perspective, but she only just started learning their names.

It galls her still that all but the obvious are ahead of her. Why set her behind like this? What did she do to deserve any of it? She would hardly put it on anyone else if she had her way of it, but so long as they are here, the petty quibbles still dig at her.

"I'll deal with them if and when I meet them, I guess. Is there anyone I should be wary of, or is that everyone in this charnel house?"

He can practically feel her eyes bore into him when he mentions Bro, and he knows she's probably trying to down play the fact that she's disappointed he didn't say mom. He keeps his voice level, so she knows that he's both perfectly serious and unfortunately used to the fact that Bro is kicking around.

"Wouldn't surprise me. Karkat made the rounds, but he got kind of focused on his boner for Jade and John. Something about those teeth and that ambivalent cheer, you know?" He shrugs, crossing a little closer to grab her hand, tugging it closer so he can check for splinters before dropping it like he wasn't doing anything.

"Most people don't want to be here, so a big chunk of them are reasonable. I've made friends outside people I knew from home, we have book characters, movie characters, comic characters. Like every conceivable fictional universe exists as its own, real thing alongside ours." He hopes she doesn't think he's fucking crazy. He doesn't want to have to prove that he knows Tony Stark personally. "Every story has a villain. There's plenty of assholes looking to stab their way to the top. Black Tom and Molotov wouldn't hesitate to impale you if you got in their way. I know that from personal experience."

Maybe later she'll meet him, she thinks. It would be interesting to finally meet the man behind the nigh legendary status 13-year-old Dave afforded him. Here in the present it's not that important, and her thoughts pass on with his words.

Also, he's grabbing her hand. She lifts an eyebrow quite pointedly at him, and there aren't any splinters because she kicked the chair and never got to the whole stick sharpening thing she asked Anna to teach her about before she told him Dave was around.

The press to ask about it fades out too when he starts bringing up fictional characters. It sounds absurd, doesn't it? But then she thinks back to the couple she met on her way to the castle, and her eyebrows press down to normal.

"It would explain some things. There was a guy who claimed he had a chimera in his stomach, and a large, purple... young lady, I guess, who identified herself as some sort of shadow being." She shrugs. "My skepticism's a little busted after Sburb."

He makes a good point, though, and she hasn't forgotten the point of this game. "I'll watch out," she promises. "Tell me what those two look like, and I'll be sure to steer clear."

The less they talk about Bro, the better. Dave is quite content to keep that door shut for a long time, given that he still hasn't worked past even a fraction of the issues he has simmering under the surface here. It helps to find a distraction in her hand, inspired partly by the fact that he feels like he's getting splinters just from looking at furniture. The Capitol will eat it up regardless, and he can look at her palm as if he expects to find an out for the awkward in it.

"It'll get tested here, trust me. We've had some characters. Literally. Derek fucking Zoolander. Ben. Stiller. It's almost a shame John isn't here." And he could kick himself for saying as much, but if the Capitol doesn't know that bringing John in would ruin his little life then they haven't been doing their research.

"Pretty typical cartoon villains. The dude has a grey streak in his hair and a curled mustache, he's tall and he looks crazy in the face. Irish. The woman is a redhead with one eye, she wears an eye patch and she has really big.." He gestures in front of himself before he stops himself and takes a moment to pause and move on. "Really big. Knives."

She feels almost like she should ask if he's kidding, but gets the feeling she'll just wind up with a headache if she tries. She rubs at her temples. This is stupid.

"I'll keep an eye out," she says, tired but not in the physical way. She even lets him off the hook for the gesture.

"Is there anything else I need to know right now, or should we get a move on? I doubt we'll last if we stay holed up in a rotting shack the whole time."

She hates that she has to think about it like that. She'd like the chance to sit down and absorb it piece by piece. Sburb might have happened in a day, but the stakes were higher and there were guides everywhere pushing them along a path preordained by Paradox Space. And that's it, too--it was all one day, a very long one she's just come off the tail end of, and now she's here with yet more to figure out and worry about. She wishes there were somewhere she could register a support ticket to the equivalent of fuck this, I want to go home - whatever 'home' is, after the death of their universe.

Edited 2015-06-25 03:38 (UTC)

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