#tw!gore

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Tavros had only seen this side of Limbo once, when his old boss died the first time. Selling his soul to get revenge on the royal family, as it turns out, came with some nasty consequences that Gamzee got to see firsthand. It seemed at first glance that he’d kept true to the strange clown aesthetic he’d been so dedicated to in life. A second glance would affirm that his dedication to the clown schtick had only grown worse as his psyche deteriorated in death.

“Who all up and motherfuckin’ disturbs my slumber or what the fuck ever?” Tavros can’t help the shiver that runs through him, discomfort eating away at him like a heavy rain eroding away at limestone. “Don’t you know it’s all kinds of fuckin’ rude to disturb the dead?” Tavros clutches the reliquary to his chest as Gamzee steps into view, tall and gangly, looking more like an animated skeleton than a person with rags that hang from his emaciated frame in blood soaked tatters. His gaze is far away, cold and glassy. If he had not been walking and talking before Tavros’s very eyes, the gargoyle would assume Gamzee was completely dead. His skin is frozen in spots, as cruel of a reminder as it could be of how he died.

“Gamzee you-” Tavros stammers, fumbling the artifact in his grip. “You’re alive?” The cackle, loud and hollow, echoes through the freezing air, shaking Tavros to his core.

“That's a way of puttin’ it, Tavbro. Do I look very fuckin’ alive to you?” Tavros shakes his head hurriedly. “I’ve been a wreck since I got here, stuck in this shithole because that stupid fuckin’ kid got away. And I’m gonna be stuck here until that shit keels over once and for all, which could take who knows how fuckin’ long.” Gamzee huffs, wincing with each movement, joints cracking with every step. “You wanna know how it feels to be literally falling apart? You know what kind of fuckin’ bullshit I’ve been through the past decade?”

“Well, this is Limbo. Aren’t you supposed to, I don’t know, attone while you’re here?” Tavros flinches when Gamzee scoffs.

“Attoning is for motherfuckers with souls. In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t fuckin’ have one of those!” Gamzee shouts, forcing himself to erupt into a coughing fit, blood spattering his ashen, frost-bitten skin. The liquid is thick and dark, unnatural and unsettling to see. “Once that bastard dies, it’s straight to hell for me. I’ll be joinin’ that fuckin’ dark carnival down below if you know what I mean.”

“I...I don’t actually.”

“Course you don’t. Nobody ever fuckin’ does. If I hadn’t lost that little bauble I’d gotten from the ancient ones, I’d go back to finish the motherfuckin’ job. Take the expressway to hell so I can get my eternity of suffering over with.” Gamzee’s hands clench into fists, outlining every sharp, gnarled bone resting just beneath his rotting skin.

“That’s a uh… that’s kind of depressing.” Tavros looks down at the smoking reliquary in his hand, and his attention snaps up to the brooding corpse. “By ‘bauble’ do you mean this?”

The artifact gives a hellish screech when Gamzee snatches it, the crazed look in his eyes only growing more and more deranged as he stares down at it, coughing and hacking between his hysterical laughter.

“Where did you all up and motherfuckin’ find this, Tavbro! Ah, ten years of waiting and you still come through, you glorious granite bastard!” Gamzee doesn’t bother to wait for an answer, instead continuing on as though he were talking to a regular, non-living gargoyle. “You know what this means? I can finish the job. I can end that entire fuckin’ bloodline once and for all!”

“Ah… how, how are you gonna do that? You’re kind of stuck here.”

“Oh I won’t be the one going! My motherfuckin’ friends in this wicked lava lamp can get the job done and make it look like a fuckin’ accident too.” Tavros shrinks back as Gamzee’s voice grows louder, more urgent and obsessive.