video; UN: TripleJ

[kyley_b]

[The hair. Oh dear god, the hair. Kyle's recognizable mass of curls has been gelled within an inch of its life and sculpted into a wavy helmet. And where are his sleeves?!]

Yo Trench, what up what up, it's ya boy Kyley-B!

So's I need a little help here - anybody know a place in town where you can get some dope-ass ink? Because, you know, if you look up 'too much swag' in the dictionary, there'll be a great big picture of my face, and attitude like that deserves the best, you know what I'm sayin'?

Help a guy out here.

PEACE!

Comments

text;

[hearthebell]

An identifying feature, for one.

Tell me yours, first.

text;

[kyley_b]

but why you wanna be a john doe? don't you want people to know who you were?

an orca whale. his name's willzyx.

text;

[hearthebell]

I've changed my mind. Where and when are you going to get your tattoo?

Re: text;

[kyley_b]

ursula's ink seems to be the place to go. probably like in an hour.

text;

[hearthebell]

I'll be there.

I can't help but want to meet the other guy with an orca omen.

text;

[kyley_b]

oh, no shit?! awesome. yeah bruh i'll see you there then!

Action;

[hearthebell]

[A sense of intense curiosity compels L to stop by Ursula's Ink roughly an hour later. Most of what he does is motivated by a sense of intense curiosity, in fairness, but there might be some crescent affronted slice of his brain, scarcely there, that wonders what he could possibly have in common with someone who uses phrases like "dope-ass ink" and "too much swag."

Another username had communicated with "TripleJ" as though they were lovers, and had reacted as though this isn't typical for him, probably the result of a shedding. L therefore resolves to take this meeting with an entire heaping spoonful of salt, because if there's one other Sleeper with an orca omen in Trench (at least, he's heard of no others before now), he hopes...

...what?

Nonexistent odds that it's Light Yagami; it's best, really, not to hope.

The man who arrives is in his mid-twenties, narrow and spindly, with huge hollow eyes and shaggy, uncombed dark hair. Though he'd shed to be spectacularly handsome for the first and only time in his life, he's since returned to his more typical forward-bent posture and clash of awkward features. With his slouch, he looks about 5'8", swimming in an overlarge grey peacoat.

There's an unmistakable identifying indicator, of course. At his shoulder level, an orca whale omen floats alongside him, shrunken to the size of a Labrador to better avoid the delicate and sharp items in a tattoo parlor.

He scans the establishment for the rest of the pod.]

[kyley_b]

[Kyle is 6'2" and skinny as a rail. Under normal circumstances he's pretty clearly a dork, but currently he walks with all the confidence of a UFC fighter. He spots the little orca and waves, grinning as he walks over.]

Hoooooooly shit, you're a goth kid. Hilarious.

[He studies the other's omen with real interest. He slumps slightly backward as smoke pours from his chest and forms into another orca.

It's bigger. Because of COURSE it is.]

Now we match!

[Kyle's omen makes an interested whale sound.]

[hearthebell]

[He stares owlishly up at the taller redhead, surprised at the first words out of his mouth.]

I... don't really agree with any of those evaluations...

[Not a goth, not a kid, not hilarious... surely. He seems bemused rather than affronted; his black hair and the darkness around his eyes are natural, after all, and so he only incidentally looks like a Tim Burton protagonist.

Lycka, at his side, whistles and chuffs what seems to be a greeting directed at the other whale omen.]

I'd be remiss to squander an opportunity available to me. On deerNet, your lover called you Kyle Broflovski. Is that what you generally prefer, or is it a title specifically reserved for intimates?

[It might be a sly show of dominance on L's part, a subtly digging reminder that there's an information imbalance between them, and it's in his favor.]

[kyley_b]

Doesn't really matter if you agree if it's the truth, bruh. [His social graces are a bit lacking at the moment.

Willzyx shrinks to a more manageable size and does a slow roll in the air. He's pretty clearly happy to see another orca.]

Oh, Karkat? Yeah. Heh. You can call me Kyley-B.

[If only he were currently clever enough to notice.] What do I call you? Besides Robert Smith.

[hearthebell]

[L pictures, in his mind's eye for keen detail and spectacular deductive power, a heaping spoonful of salt.]

OK.

[He replies, because he doesn't actually want to say "Kyley-B" out loud even if the other young man is serious.

He knows before even saying it that the likelihood of Kyle making fun of the name he chose upon arrival is approximately 97%. He considers, for more than a moment, the benefits of just saying that Robert Smith is fine.]

Lazarus Sauveterre. And this is Lycka. What tattoo are you considering?

[A lightning-fast subject change, hopefully fast enough to keep this one from asking which Edgar Allen Poe story that incredibly fake-sounding name was stolen from.]

[kyley_b]

[To be fair, it is an incredibly stupid nickname.

And, for a wonder, the mockery does not come.]

Isn't that a dead guy? 'Sup, Lycka. Can you talk? Willzyx can talk.

I'm thinking of getting like, something for my Mom maybe. Or I dunno, something badass.

[hearthebell]

[L decides to put a little more faith in the odd 3%, in the future.]

I'm sure there are lots of dead people named Lazarus.

[Dryly. He doesn't mention the obvious Biblical example, or that he himself is in fact one of those dead Lazaruses.

Lycka whistles kittenishly, followed by two short barking chirrups.]

She talks.

[L confirms, even if it's only to him.]

Reading between the lines [it was actually fairly blatant] Karkat seemed to think that your desire for a tattoo has something to do with a recent shedding. You could give it some more thought if you're unsure about the specifics, and be less likely to regret the outcome. Or... you could have a story, I suppose. For some people, that's innate, and enough.

[kyley_b]

Yeah, but isn't there a famous one? [Kyle's pretty sure he's not making this up.]

I hope she sounds less stupid than this one.

[Willzyx whistles. It's true, though, he sounds really dumb.]

Oh, yeah, totally. Shedded and shredded, that's me. Hey, you think if I shed again the tattoo would come off too?

oh my god I completely forgot that episode; *beautiful*

[hearthebell]

If the Bible matters to you, I suppose there's a famous one.

[He tries to phrase it without any kind of bias, making it intentionally unclear how he feels about the association. One exists, of course; every part of his fake name has some significance.]

"Stupid" is an arbitrary construct meant to diminish the contributions of those seen as lesser. It wouldn't occur to me to make that judgment about your omen.

[L only hears whale sounds akin to Lycka's; he might think differently if he heard that big dumb voice. He suspects that every Sleeper perceives their omen's communication differently.]

It's possible that you'd lose the tattoo... but I was injured while in a shedded state, and after I returned to normal, the scars remained.

[He tugs up his sleeve, revealing a bone-white and extremely thin forearm, absolutely covered in marks left by an orca whale's teeth.]

:)

[kyley_b]

Nah, bruh, I'm Jewish, only the first half matters to me. [Said with a cheeky grin.]

That's real nice of you. I'm sure Willzyx appreciates you being a bro.

[Kyle has to think about that for a moment. Then he's peering at the scars on L's arm.]

Whooooooooaaaaaa what the fuck did you DO?

[hearthebell]

There's a cleansing sort of fury to the Old Testament, isn't there?

[The way he says it is almost cheerful, in a wan way. It doesn't ebb when Kyle asks about the tooth marks.]

I was dreaming in Cassandra and Lycka pulled me away from danger. I thought it would be interesting to have a scar. It's possible that's why it stayed after I shed, so... internalize your choice, and it stays, I'd think.

[kyley_b]

I guess you could look at it that way, sure.

Oh, fuck, yeah. Good job, Lycka. [Kyle considers this, frowning a little. Maybe he should be more careful.]

Why'd you think it would be interesting?

[hearthebell]

I've never had a scar before.

I wanted to see if it felt different to see a physical manifestation of survival on my flesh, and I assessed that I appreciated the way the experience changed my outlook. Besides... I understand that scars look tough.

[kyley_b]

How the fuck you never had a scar? Severe helicopter mom or what?

You ain't wrong there. Hotties LOVE em.

[hearthebell]

[There's an odd sound in the back of his throat that he tries to pass off for simply clearing it. He'd had an overprotective handler-slash-bodyguard, and also, incidentally, a helicopter as well.]

Did you? If you want to get a tattoo for your mother, I'd think that she was a fairly constant and formative presence in your life.

[Deflection, it's great.]

...you know this from experience? How many scars do you have?

[kyley_b]

Hell yeah I did! My ma was the best! She was a fighter.

Aside from the bite marks my boo keeps givin me, I got a wicked surgery scar. I think I'd have more, but I died. [Like it's no big deal.]

[hearthebell]

A fighter? Was she sick?

[He's heard it before in that context. If she was a fighter in some other way, he's still interested. Talk of mothers interests L, the way talk of the jungle or volcanos might interest someone who has spent their whole life in Cleveland.]

For a time I wondered if everyone here was dead. So you're one of them?

[Us, he does not say, as the man whose perfectly scarless body dropped dead at 25.]

[kyley_b]

Huh? Oh, naw, I mean like literally, she could fight!

I never died til I got here. I got pretty messed up, turned into a squid again, woke up on the beach. It sucked. [This is an abbreviated and glib version of the events.]

[hearthebell]

Oh... I'm sorry that happened.

[What else does one say to hearing about the remembered death of another?]

There are implications to spiritual immortality that some philosophies and creeds must grapple with terribly. I never thought that death was anything besides a one-way trip that deconstructed everything about a person beyond any possible reassembly.