thecircus | Age Meme

Age Meme

~Age Change Meme~

1. Your character has been brought back/drank some magic potion/awoken as a different age!
2. Are they younger? Older? Tiny? Ancient? Can they remember everything before, have they forgotten completely, or are they in some foggy in-between? What are they like now if any different at all?
3. Post with your characters! Add prompts or just simply talk about them!
4. Pictures can be thrown in too if there are any at all!
5. Tag each other and thread things out! Did you ever want to see if someone was a bratt when they were young or if they ever matured? Now you can!
6. Have fun!
Bonus Alt Gif:

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Sigma Klim is certainly easier on the eyes these days. With no cybernetic enhancements to speak of, he's a far cry from his older self, in both looks and personality. Six feet of hyperactive boyish energy and a preference towards crude humour, he has a habit of acting significantly younger than his 22 years. There have been no death games, apocalypses, or injuries to mellow him out, at least until the next Arena hits...

Certainly, this Sigma remembers his time here - but only vaguely, enough to remind him which of the Tributes are important to him. The rest is guesswork... how the hell his older self was able to corral so many bloodthirsty teenagers is completely beyond his understanding. The adverts were right to mock him... What is he supposed to do with them now?! He won't be a parent for another good twenty three years.

He spots the dark hair, curling a bit, not all unlike his. But trolls don't get a family with other trolls, lest they be of the carnival, or someone got to counting them all as family. And he's an adult. That's a big no right all there.

But still something draws him closer, like the way the ocean pulled when he didn't think better of its current. So he keeps low, lightly crouched, crawling where he needs to. If he's seen he's dead, if he's heard he's dead. But he has to get closer and so closer he gets, wide eyes still grey set in yellow, not a trace of indigo to be seen yet.

Sigma's not bright enough to notice a troll creeping towards him after hours, especially in the tribute commons with its endless places to hide. But he does get the strangest sensation that he is being watched - hair prickles and stands on the back of his neck and though he had just taken a seat on a leather couch, he gets up again, fully prepared to kick some paparazzi's ass. Had someone followed him up from the training center by hiding behind furniture?! This place was monumentally screwed up.

But when he stands to get a better view, there's no human in sight.

...To the bar, then. Sigma decides he'll get himself a drink and watch from there. If anything, it'll take the edge off of how creeped out he's become - and hey, if some reporter wanted to get a drink with him, they didn't have to stalk him to do it. At the very least, it'd be a friendlier setting than while he was messing around with those axes downstairs... He orders a rum and coke (dark, and a double) and waits to assure himself that it's just his imagination.

Sigma stands and Kurloz freezes-- stupid, stupid, never freeze up, that's how to get culled-- and he stays there's hands and knees on the floor, hoping he ain't seen. He can't grab voodoo to direct the gaze away.

But a miracle comes. The man looks away anyway.

Kurloz lets himself breathe and continues forward, pulling up off his knees but keeping crouched. It's... a place to order drinks. He'd seen some of those in the market, usually there were fights in there. But maybe if he could get to the far end without being seen...

The miracle is negated quick with the curse of too long pants. He trips, falls, and lands with an exclamatory, "Honk!"

He's dead. Cullbait. Finished.

If he lives he's never wearing pants again.

The exclamation in particular nearly scares Sigma to death, and Sigma jumps mid-sip, spilling delicious imitation cuba libre all over the front of his shirt. He slams his drink down and sits there, stewing in frustration for a moment, before he realizes it was a kid that fell over and rushes off of the stool to help him up. Was this who was following him? No problems, then, it was just a curious little boy.

"Hey, are you alrigh-"

And then he notices the horns peeking out of his mess of dark hair. No headband to hold them up, they don't appear fake. It's the grey skin he notices next, and Sigma is perfectly bewildered. He beholds the troll kid with a loud, flat, "What."

Kurloz's head lifts fast, and he moves just as fast to a defensive crouch. He hisses loud, the first thing instinct guides him to do. Second thing, don't look afraid. But it's hard because he is, this not-troll is way bigger than him and he has no idea what the not-troll might be capable of-- what if he were stronger than the seadwellers. Cullbait. The fearsome face he forces up is only half up to par. He tries to think fast.

"Get back! Can make you hurt, I can! This brother is a... a subjugglator! My lusus will eat you alive!" These are lies, but that doesn't mean this man knows that, and maybe Messiahs will forgive him. Maybe. He shouts, "Honk!" Like it should be threatening.

At first Sigma stares at him in all of his weirdness, and then the threats start. Though he'd been midway through a gesture to help the boy to his feet, Sigma sits back on his haunches now and folds his arms, which are by no means small. He makes sure to make his muscles pulse with the effort of staying balanced like this. This kid thinks he can threaten him?

He's not trying to scare him, it's just Sigma's way of letting him know his threats of violence are useless. What the hell was a "subjugglator" and "lusus" anyway? At least, the second one seemed a little familiar. He'll have to ask for his name...

"'Honk.' Yeah, that's a real good one."

Then he smiles warmly.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Kurloz relaxes his defensive stance. He's nowhere near being actually relaxed but...

It's that smile...

"You're... not going to cull me...?"

It seems unreal. He wouldn't believe it if he'd never met Kankri, even though Kankri was small, and not an adult like this one. Adults were the most dangerous.

Of course, he stays ready to run and strife if he needs to.

Sigma shrugs, as if he's still considering it. Then his smile erupts into a grin, he can't fake being angry. "Nah. You made me spill my drink, but they're free. I can't stay mad."

He turns his head to look at the boy sympathetically, still crouched near him so they can speak at an equal level. Where did he come from if he expects to be killed just because he attracted attention? It was almost... sad. "So why were you following me, kid? Did you want something?"

The shrug makes him go tense, but again its brushed away. He finds himself blurting, "But why!?" Just because he can't think of anything as bad as death doesn't mean there is none.

It doesn't occur to him that Sigma could simply lie if that were the case.

There's still a question to answer though, one he nearly cut off. "Had a feeling, I did..." He mutters, looking down. Before remembering himself and pulling his eyes back up. Pay attention for quick movement.

Eponine's a far cry from herself as well. At only seven years old, her cheeks are plump and rosy, her eyes sparkle and her carefully curled hair shines. On her head sits a dear, blue velvet bonnet, and on her face, she wears a frown.

Slowly, she approaches the young man, holding out an old, battered doll.

"Don't I know you, Monsieur? Do you drink with my daddy? Somebody's broken my doll and I know who it was. It was that brat, Cosette." She points imperiously into the distance.

"I..."

Something gives way in Sigma's brain and a feeling of recognition comes over him. This was Eponine Thenardier. 45 years from now, he might call her his little girl. The younger Sigma suddenly breaks out into a cold sweat...

"Uh, yeah. Sure. I drink with your Dad all the time. You're his kid, Eponine, right?" It's better than a 'hey, Eponine, another version of myself forced my future terrible parent complex on to you and now I can't back out'.

Normally, Sigma wouldn't waste his time playing with a little girl- nothing against girls, but he just has other things to do. But this is Eponine. As in, his older self's most favourite person. If he screws this up, someone's going to pay eventually. He thinks to himself that this is a scenario his older self would love; unfortunately, at present, he's got 45 years to go until he reaches that point.

And so Sigma beams at her the best he can, though he isn't used to entertaining children. He makes a motion to collect her doll from her. "That's no good. I could fix it for you, though."

"You better not break it no more or I'll tell my Pa on you and he'll take your money and throw you out and it will serve you right."

Eponine hands over the doll, her scowl spoiling an otherwise pretty face.

"I remember your name now. It's Sigma. Monsieur Sigma. You punched my daddy, didn 't you?"

Sigma stares at her in complete disbelief. Of all the things she could have remembered and she remembered that? So much for gratitude.

"Uhhh. He kind of deserved it?"

And how did dolls even break?! Weren't they just made of solid plastic with a couple joints? Did they even have plastic back then?

"...Look, Eponine, when someone offers to help you, you should accept it nicely. Okay?"

He takes her doll and inspects it. Shit, this was the super old kind with piano wire and stringing, wasn't it?! Man, he was so fucked. He keeps looking back and forth from Eponine to the doll helplessly.

"You shan't speak to me in such a way or I'll tell my Mama and she'll box your ears. She boxed Cosette's ears. She deserved it - she were playing with my cat. But it's mine! So I told Mama. 'Zelma and I laughed!"

She snatches the doll back. "You look different from what I remember. You are quite handsome today, Monsieur. Can I sit on your knee?"

Sigma raises his hands in defeat. He considers telling her the importance of learning to share (and that he would have played with her cat too, most likely) but decides against it. "Alright, alright, whatever you say. Wouldn't want to make Mom mad." He's a little relieved to be taken off of the doll duty, but he doesn't make that known.

Wow, Eponine sure was a little brat when she was younger. He supposed anyone that Monsieur Thenardier would act in such a way, at least for a while. She has given him quite the backhanded compliment, but Sigma figures he'll show a good example and thank her for it regardless. "Thanks. Sure, if you want to. Do you need some help up?"

"Yes." Eponine is quite evidently waiting to be lifted properly onto Sigma's knee. She's old enough, of course, to seat herself, but Eponine seems inclined to do as little as possible for herself.

"You know what I want more than anything? Even more than a brush-and-mirror of my own? I want a new dolly. She's so handsome, Monsieur. She is dressed all in pink, with a dear little cap on her head, and hair more black than mine - and curly, Sir. She is the most beautiful doll I have seen. You know, I call her Ophelie. She is so lovely. And she comes with a travelling trunk, Sir, filled with the most lovely clothes. You know, if someone should buy her for me, I should love her so much and look after her. And 'Zelma would have a dolly all to herself."

Not that she's hinting or anything. It's merely a coincidence that she lays her head against Sigma's chest, and places her little hand against him. Obviously.

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Age Meme

Sigma Klim

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